Witness Protection
by snowdragonct
Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered, detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada.
1. Paperwork Bites

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: I'll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there'll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry.

And I know I'm behind on "The Academy," but there are plot issues that are holding me back, and I refuse to post anything substandard on that particular story just for the sake of updating. Trust that I will continue it, and I'll do my darnedest to make it worth the wait. 

Meanwhile, this story was burning a hole in my pocket...

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter One: Paperwork Bites

It was a miserable day at the precinct. The weather had turned cold again, and a steady rain fell from a slate-grey sky. You'd think I'd have been glad to be stuck on desk duty, instead of out on the streets in that deluge, but I wasn't. I fucking _hate _paperwork.

And to make it worse, it was the _reason _I was on desk duty that really got to me. I mean, just because some punk kid claimed I'd roughed him up a bit—that's no reason for the department to pull one of its best detectives off the street and stick him behind a pile of paperwork the size of Mount Vesuvius. 

And since I know you're wondering—yes, I did rough him up. But the little shit had it coming to him. We'd run him down in an alley while investigating a series of break-ins, and while my partner, Wufei Chang, was putting the cuffs on, the perp nearly broke his nose with a head butt, and then topped it off by kicking me squarely in the groin. 

By the time we tackled him again, neither one of us was in a very good mood, and I'll admit I tossed him against the wall and pinned him while Chang cuffed him. I'll even admit that on the way to the car, when he spit on me and tried to get away again, I tripped him and let him go face-first into the pavement. Damn it anyway! How much abuse were we supposed to take?

Apparently more than we did. Both Wufei and I ended up on desk duty for a month. 

And don't think I didn't hear an earful about that. My partner was none too happy that my indiscretion had gotten us both pulled from our active investigations. Usually (yes, this had happened before) I was the only one punished. But this time Chief Darlian wanted to impress upon Chang the importance of "keeping Yuy in line," and so he punished us both.

We were two weeks into it, which my partner staunchly declared was unjust, when things took a turn for the better. At least it seemed that way at the time.

Our captain gave a sharp rap on the door and stuck her head in. "Yuy—Chang—you're to report to the Chief's office, pronto!"

I looked up over my stack of papers, and Wufei turned from the coffee machine. "Why does the Chief want to see us?"

Captain Po narrowed her eyes, and trust me, both Wufei and I quailed at that look. I swear the woman could strip flesh from bone with her glare. "You'll find out when you get there," she snapped curtly, and then she was gone.

Wufei looked suspiciously at me. "Do you know anything about this, Yuy?"

"Not a clue," I shrugged, standing up and stretching to flex muscles weary from sitting in a chair. "But anything beats pushing papers the rest of the day."

"You'd think so," sighed my partner, setting down the cup he'd been about to pour coffee into.

"Why? You think he's going to suspend us? That would have happened right away."

Wufei darted me a cold look from onyx eyes—and let me say here that his glare was very nearly as lethal as Po's, though in a more chilling way. "It wouldn't have happened at all if you'd kept your cool."

"We've been over this—."

"And yet you continue to play rough with suspects when you know you'll only get into trouble."

"I can't help it," I shot back defensively. "Damn it, Chang! You know the shit we put up with out there. And just because some bleeding heart public defender whines about a bump or bruise on a kid that attacked us first—."

"I know, I know," Wufei sighed, having heard all my excuses before. "Let's just go see what the Chief wants before we get into trouble for being late."

My partner was a stickler for playing by the rules. He hated to be late, improper, uninformed, or in any way, shape or form, slip-shod about anything. In fact, I think it galled him that as detectives we weren't required to wear uniforms. He'd certainly always worn a perfect one while we'd been street cops together.

I, on the other hand, was no less of a perfectionist—but only when it came to investigations. I didn't mind bulling my way through a situation, or strong-arming someone for information—so long as it got the mission accomplished. I was all about results, and to Hell with how I got them.

I suppose that's why we made such a good team. I had the ruthless determination and Chang had the cool head. We were both smart, observant, and damned good detectives.

We were also less than optimistic at getting called into the Chief's presence.

I paused at the door, and Wufei nudged me. "Go on, Yuy. He's waiting."

"Why don't you go first?" I challenged.

"You're in front," came the reasonable response.

I started to step back and my partner braced a firm hand against my back. "Be a man, Yuy!"

I darted a glare at him and knocked firmly on the office door.

"Come in!"

We edged nervously into the office to find the Chief seated at his desk with the Mayor across from him, the Commissioner standing nearby, and two other suits against one wall.

Fuck. Chang and I were in more trouble than I'd thought. They'd brought out the heavy guns for this little meeting. 

"Y-you wanted to see us, sir?" I asked politely, nearly wincing at the slight stutter that betrayed my unease.

But Chief Darlian merely gave a grim smile and a shake of his head. "Relax Yuy. You and Chang aren't here for another punishment…"

The Commissioner made a rude sound under his breath, clearly showing that he didn't like whatever reason we _were_ there.

"You're here because we've got a mess on our hands, and need you two back on the street." The Chief tossed our detective badges onto the table, and I picked mine up with a steady hand, knowing that if it meant our punishment was being revoked, it must be deadly serious. "Zechs Merquise was murdered last night. A forensic team is already at his apartment, and I want you two there before they finish gathering evidence."

My jaw went slack. Zechs Merquise was one of the most high-profile criminals in the state. While we'd been unable to convict him of anything, we knew perfectly well that he was running illegal gambling, prostitution, and drug operations in the club district. Rumor had it he was one of Treize Khushrenada's lieutenants, overseeing most, if not all, of his illegal enterprises. And Khushrenada was the biggest fish in the sea, as far as the department was concerned. He was the head of the Oz syndicate, or so our sources claimed; once again, we'd never been able to get near enough to pin anything on him. He kept his hands clean and his aristocratic ass far removed from those who worked for him. 

The Romefeller Foundation was his front—a seemingly-legitimate import-export company, they had tendrils extending into the banking industry, the entertainment industry, and several technology companies. And once again, we couldn't prove a goddamned thing.

"What's the address?" Chang asked, breaking into my wandering thoughts as he scooped up his own badge.

"Victoria Heights—the penthouse suite."

Wufei whistled appreciatively. "Expensive digs," he commented. "Surely there are security cameras…"

Ah, yes. Investigating a murder in a ritzy, high-security building like Victoria Heights should be a piece of cake. Why then did I have a feeling it wouldn't be that easy? Could it be because my life is _never _that simple?

I gave a curt nod to the Chief, and followed Chang from the office. 

"Zechs Merquise!" he exploded once we were out in the hall. "Can you believe it, Yuy?"

"I can't imagine how anyone got close enough," I shrugged. Indeed, from all we knew of Merquise, he had at least one or two bodyguards around him at any given time—at least in public. I guessed that in private, he was more vulnerable.

We stopped by our office to grab our coats, and then headed for the elevators. 

"Well, anyone who got past his security probably didn't overlook a little thing like cameras," Wufei commented, shaking his head. "I have a feeling this won't be an easy investigation."

I just gave him a withering look. "No shit."

* * *

We arrived at the apartment to find utter chaos awaiting us. There were literally dozens of people swarming about the place, cruisers blocking the entrance, officers keeping people out, and reporters trying desperately to find out what was going on.

"Lovely," Chang muttered as we pushed our way through to the officer at the door.

He grinned bleakly at the sight of us. "Hey, Chang. Yuy. Thought they might pull you off desk duty for this one."

"Lucky us," I said flatly, slipping past him and heading straight for the elevators. I didn't fancy climbing twenty flights of stairs to the penthouse suite. "You want to talk to the building manager and get the security footage, or view the body first?"

"Oh, by all means, let's view the blood and guts," Wufei said dryly.

So we did.

We were greeted at the top floor by the officer in charge of the crime scene. "Well, about fuckin' time! What'd they do—make you walk here?" he demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Kelly," I said snidely. "What've you got?"

"Call came in about an hour ago. The maid showed up and found him. We figure he's been dead at least nine or ten hours."

"How'd he die?"

"Gunshot to the head—execution-style."

_Fuck!_

I turned a wide-eyed gaze to Chang. If Merquise had been executed, the most likely suspect would be his boss, Treize Khushrenada. The case couldn't possibly have gotten any bigger.


	2. The Crime Scene

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Two: The Crime Scene

Merquise's apartment was nothing short of splendid. With the finest furnishings and artwork on the walls that must've cost a fortune, it was easily the most elegant crime scene I'd ever investigated.

"What a shame," Wufei murmured, looking down at the body sprawled across the Persian rug in the main room. "They'll never get the blood out of that carpet."

"Chang!" I snapped, trying not to smirk. "You're awful."

Yeah, I know we both sounded pretty heartless. But after all the dead bodies we'd seen, what was one more? Especially when it was a man we'd tried for years to investigate. He was as slippery as his reputed boss, Khushrenada, and just as untouchable. But clearly someone had touched him this time, with what was probably a .45 caliber bullet right between the eyes.

"God, he's a mess," Wufei sighed, kneeling and gingerly turning the head aside so he could see the exit wound. "Fuck."

The coroner was there, bagging the hands of the corpse and making notes on his clipboard.

"Cause of death—," he began.

"—is obvious," I interrupted. "Cut to the chase, doc. Give us a time," I said shortly, wanting to move ahead with the investigation.

"Around midnight."

I looked at Chang. "Security tapes."

"Yeah, I know," he drawled, waving a hand dismissively. "As soon as I finish here, I'll head downstairs. I'll pull the vids for the past week, so we can see if someone cased the joint."

While Chang stayed to get more information from the coroner and the first officers on the scene, I wandered from room to room, checking for clues.

I ended up in the bedroom, noting the rumpled blankets and general disarray. It looked like Merquise might have been awakened and gone to answer the door. That reinforced my first instinct; the murder wasn't committed during a break-in—it was the sole purpose of whoever had done it.

On my way back to the door, I noticed a jacket tossed across a chair in the corner, and frowned as I picked it up. It was well-worn—made of dark brown leather that had faded and cracked with age—like an old bomber jacket. Only this one had a design across the back that I remembered from my days in vice—crossed scythes with silver handles and luminous green blades, and the word "Reapers" emblazoned in black and dripping with red. Gang colors.

The Reapers had been well-known on the streets until about three years earlier, when a rival gang set them up—cornered them in an abandoned warehouse and torched the place. It had made headlines and given me a serious headache, because we never came close to finding out who did it. Not that I particularly cared about a bunch of thieving, drug-dealing punks, or how they died—but I didn't like failing at an investigation.

"What the fuck would Merquise be doing with this?" I wondered aloud, glancing around the room.

I ended up back at the bed, looking down at the nightstand closest to the window. There were a couple of cigarette butts in an ashtray, and I made a mental note to have the forensics guys grab them to test for DNA. Then I pulled back the satin comforter and looked at the impressions in the expensive sheets—along with pretty obvious bodily fluids—and some very long strands of chestnut hair.

"He wasn't alone." I felt a surge of adrenaline. Merquise had apparently had a guest in his bed, which meant we'd have a suspect once we reviewed the security tapes.

"Who wasn't alone? Merquise?"

I looked up to see Chang leaning in the doorway. "Yes, Merquise," I said with a grin. "Judging from the mess in the bed, he had a hot fling before dying." I picked up one of the long hairs. "—with a brunette."

A coarse laugh came from one of the forensics guys, who walked in just then. "So ya mean he 'got off' before he got 'offed?'"

I grimaced at the horrible pun and Wufei looked disdainfully at the man. "Can't you be just a bit less crude, Murphy?"

"Just responding to Yuy's observation," he shrugged, heading for the bed. "I take it you want all this bagged and analyzed."

"No shit," I muttered. "And don't forget the butts in the ashtray. I'd like to see if we can find a suspect to link some DNA to."

"Well, you find the suspect and we got the DNA," he assured me. "Two wine glasses in the kitchen—two sets of dirty dishes in the sink. Merquise had company for sure." He glanced up as he dropped the cigarette butts into an evidence bag. "'Course that won't tell you when his guest left—could've been hours before the murder."

"Chang—how about those surveillance videos?" I asked.

"I'm on it. Meet you downstairs."

Wufei left and I resumed my search, stepping aside for the crime scene photographers as they documented each piece of evidence before removing it.

As they shoved the leather jacket into a plastic bag, I thought back to when I'd last seen one like it. It had been maybe three or four years earlier…on a punk who was hauled in for breaking and entering. How a jacket like this ended up at Merquise's penthouse was something of a mystery—he was too far up the food chain to have ever been part of a common street gang. But as far as we knew, every member of the Reapers had died in the warehouse massacre.

I shook my head. For all I knew, the jacket had come from a second-hand store or thrift shop. Maybe Merquise had a thing for leather…

"Hey—wait a sec!" I grabbed the bag from the forensics guy. "I need to check something. Don't worry; I won't contaminate the evidence." I hurried back out to where they were loading Merquise's body onto a gurney. "Hold up there." I pulled a rubber glove out of the box the forensics people had brought, and slipped it on before carefully working my fingers through the bloody, matted mess of Merquise's long, platinum hair to find the tag on the collar of the robe he was wearing.

It read "large," and as I eyed the broad shoulders on the man, I didn't doubt for a minute that even a large size barely fit. "Thanks. You can take him now." I turned away and shifted the jacket inside the bag until I could read its very faded tag. "Medium."

I found myself grinning in triumph. The jacket didn't belong to Zechs Merquise. That could only mean it had been left behind by his bedmate. And since it had been pouring rain the previous night, with temperatures only slightly above freezing, it was likely the wealthy criminal's lover had left in a hurry.

"You done with that, Yuy?" The crime scene crew leader had followed me out of the bedroom.

"Yeah. Take it. And after the lab finishes, have it sent up to the evidence room. When we get a suspect, I want to be able to check the fit."

"Sure." He sauntered off with the jacket and I resumed my survey of the suite, heading right back into the bedroom, which seemed to hold the most promise of offering up significant clues.

As I rounded the bed, once again drawn to the nightstand that had held the ashtray, I became aware of the cool breeze drifting in a partially open window, and I pulled back the curtain.

Jackpot! There was a fire escape outside, and when I leaned out the window, looking first towards the street and then up towards the roof, I realized the mystery lover must have left that way, which meant they wanted to avoid being seen.

Prime suspect material.

I turned back inside and went to shut the window, only to have it squeal loudly for the last couple of inches.

"Hey, ya wanna keep it down?" groused one of the forensics crew. "You'd think a fancy penthouse like this would be in better shape."

"Oh, I like it just fine," I crooned, already warming to the investigation. Not only did I know that someone had left via the fire escape; I knew why they hadn't closed the window all the way. They'd wanted to leave quietly. And that fact pointed to several tantalizing conclusions.

First and foremost, the person had known the window squeaked, suggesting they were more than a one-time visitor to the penthouse. It looked very much like Zechs Merquise had a regular lover. But if that lover had killed Merquise, why would she need to leave quietly? No—I was starting to think we might have more than a suspect—we might have a witness. And to me, that was far more valuable. Having the security videos and an eyewitness would almost guarantee a conviction of whatever suspect we finally tracked down.

I was on my way towards the living room, when I paused to glance back at the position of the bed and the window…and as I turned back around, I realized that from behind the half-open door, I had a perfect view of the exact spot where Merquise had been killed. I eased up behind the door, looking through the space between the hinges, and could see the officers talking at the entrance, right where a visitor would have stood.

Once I made that discovery, I was so excited it was all I could do to finish taking my notes before hurrying downstairs to meet my partner.

He was in the manager's office, leaning over a harried-looking man who was gesturing rather wildly with his hands. "I don't know where Harris went, or why there's nothing but static on the surveillance equipment!"

I nearly groaned aloud. "Chang, is there a problem?"

He looked up with a black scowl. "He's claiming the night watchman's gone missing and the security vids are showing nothing but static."

The chubby building superintendent looked up at me pleadingly. "Honest, Detectives, I have no idea where my night help is. I came in this morning to find the station unmanned and nothing working right."

"Was that before or after the maid called us?"

"About the same time. She called me first, and I got right over here."

"You don't live in the building?"

"Like I could afford it," he scoffed. "Naw, I live five blocks away—the low rent district. I just take care of maintenance and stuff here. And there's the night crew for security when I'm not here."

I walked from his office into the adjoining security booth, looking over the row of blank screens and listening to the hum and crackle of fried electronics.

"What are you looking for?" Chang asked from behind me.

"Nothing," I sighed. "I know what happened. Someone used a degausser."

Chang looked at the computer with a scowl. "And that is—?"

"It's a high-tech device that wipes magnetic media—completely erases it."

"So that's the reason for the lack of video?"

"It's the reason this whole system is shot to Hell," I told him. "Blank as the day it was formatted."

The building manager groaned. "That surveillance software cost thousands! Tens of thousands!" he lamented.

"And someone knew just how to bypass it," I noted. "Chang, have Kelly send a team to sweep this room for prints. And then let's get out of here. We won't get any help from this system."

"Can't we even recover data from it?"

I shook my head. "It's a total loss, and the killer knew it. This was premeditated—big time."

Wufei's scowl deepened. But he called Kelly over, letting him know we wanted the building security room swept for clues. Then we headed outside, pushing through the throng of reporters with the obligatory "no comment," and making our way to our car.

Once we were safely on our way, my partner looked questioningly at me. "You gave up on the super pretty quickly, Yuy. I take it you have reason to believe he wasn't involved in the breach of security. So what did you get from the apartment?"

"For starters, Merquise wasn't alone. You saw the bed. But I also found a jacket in the bedroom that's too small for Merquise to have worn," I told him. "I think his lover might've witnessed the murder and gone out via the fire escape. Why else would someone leave without a coat on a freezing cold, raining night?"

Chang shrugged. "Sounds reasonable. How sure are you?"

"Well, from behind the bedroom door, which was ajar, there was a perfect view of the spot where Merquise was shot. In order to reach the chair where the coat was, the witness would have had to cross in front of the opening, risking being seen. But she could have gotten to the window without going anywhere near the killer's line of sight."

"So you think they were in bed when the killer came to the door? Merquise got up and threw on a robe to answer it, leaving his lover in bed."

"Most likely there were words exchanged—pleading or arguing—and Merquise's girlfriend got up and peeked through the door in time to see the murder," I guessed. "She panicked—grabbed her clothes, and went out the window."

"Interesting theory," my partner mused. "Do you think the murderer knew he or she was seen?"

"Ah—good question." I shook my head. "Hard to say."

"Any theory as to who might've wanted Zechs Merquise dead?"

"Besides us and the FBI?" I joked wryly. "As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of his boss, Khushrenada."

"What?" Chang gave me a disbelieving look. "But why? Wouldn't a rival organization be a more likely suspect? What would Khushrenada stand to gain from killing one of his top lieutenants?"

"We'll have to ask him that, if we can scrape together enough evidence for a warrant."

"As if—," Wufei scoffed.

"The fact that Khushrenada owns a technology corporation that specializes in data security is a pretty big lead," I pointed out, referring to one of Treize's "legitimate" enterprises. "They developed one of the smallest, most powerful degaussers on the planet just a few years ago. It was one of their cornerstone products."

"And totally circumstantial."

I shrugged. "Sometimes circumstantial is all you've got. And if Khushrenada was involved in any way with this murder, and even suspects someone witnessed it—he'll be on their trail by now. We may not have much time to track down our witness, whoever she is."

"And are you quite certain it wasn't the lover who killed Merquise?" Chang speculated. "Maybe they had a fight."

"I might've bought that theory before we found out someone got to the security footage," I pointed out. "That fact alone suggests a level of proficiency beyond a scorned lover."

My partner nodded his agreement. "So, how shall we go about trying to tie this 'degaussing' incident to Khushrenada in a way that will sway a judge to give us a search warrant?"

"First things first. We have to dig up all we can on Merquise's private life and try to find his girlfriend before Khushrenada gets to her."


	3. Following the Evidence

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Three: Following the Evidence

Two days later, Chang and I were hip-deep in evidence. We hadn't had a chance to check in with the forensics lab, because we were too busy poring over Merquise's background information. The cold, calculated method of his murder suggested it was meant to convey a message, which immediately made me think of Khushrenada, or some other disgruntled business associate.

Chang insisted we should go back to the apartment building to talk to neighbors and see if anyone heard or saw something the night of the killing. I think he was still a bit fixated on the notion of a jealous lover.

But I wasn't convinced going back would help much. The scrapping of the surveillance system told me whoever committed the crime was no one a neighbor would want to admit to having seen. 

"I still say we should canvass the apartment building," Chang urged for at least the third time, his intense gaze riveted on the crime scene photos and list of evidence the forensic people were still analyzing. "Knock on a few doors and see if anyone caught a glimpse of Merquise's girlfriend." He spared me a glance. "Don't you think?"

"Hn." I gave him the noncommittal grunt I always used when I was distracted and didn't want to bother with a real answer, or when I knew my answer wouldn't please him. I was surveying the list of Merquise's assets, which were extensive, to say the least.

"Yuy!"

"What?"

Wufei shook his head. "You aren't paying attention. Don't you think we could get a description of Merquise's lover from one of the other tenants in the apartment building?"

"Maybe. But he had a private elevator to the penthouse…so unless they saw him in the lobby, they wouldn't necessarily have gotten an eyeful of his girlfriend. Besides, I still think it was too well-planned for a lovers' spat." I looked up at a tap on the door.

"Oh, I sent Relena down to records to get us everything we've ever had on Merquise," Wufei told me, hurrying to open the door. In staggered a small, slender young woman, arms heaped with two boxes full of file folders.

I tried not to grimace. Relena Darlian was a nice enough girl, and Captain Po's personal secretary. But she was also the Chief's daughter, and had been trying for months to get me to ask her on a date. I'd managed to sidestep her flirtations and suggestive comments without having to actually hurt her feelings; but I didn't know how long I could keep that up.

There were plenty of reasons for me not to date her. She was the Chief's daughter. She worked in our department. She was my boss' right-hand person.

None of those mattered as much as the fact that I was gay. 

Yeah…big, tough cop…hotshot detective…and I was completely gay.

I don't know—maybe that was part of why I played so rough with suspects—overcompensation. But the bottom line was, I had no romantic interest in Relena, and was constantly on eggshells to avoid offending her or tipping my hand. The last thing I needed was for my co-workers to learn my sexual preferences. There was a pretty strong bias against gays in the department—in pretty much _any _police department, most likely. 

While I was mentally cringing, and trying to look completely absorbed in my reading, Wufei took the boxes and set them on our work table, thanking Relena for her efforts.

"Oh, always happy to help," she said with a warm smile, edging over until she was right beside me. "How's it going, Heero?"

"We've barely begun," I told her bluntly. "Unless someone walks through that door and confesses, I expect this to take weeks."

She nodded sagely, looking over at the papers I was examining. "Well, any time you need anything…you or Detective Chang…just let me know. I'll be happy to run out for food, or to bring back anything you want."

I glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "I _do _go home nights, Relena, no matter how big this case is. I'm not wedded to the job _that _much." 

That wasn't strictly true. The job was more or less my life. I was called out at all hours to investigate crimes as they happened—and you'd be amazed how many of them happened at night. Well, maybe not. But having the job I did pretty much ensured a non-existent social life. Not that I could have one anyway; I certainly couldn't date a man anywhere I might run into someone I worked with. Yet another strike against the possibility of a love life.

"…if you end up running late and need something brought in…" Relena was saying.

"I appreciate that," I said flatly, dismissing her by resuming my work as if she wasn't there.

"Relena," Wufei spoke up as she headed for the door. "If you wouldn't mind, could you check with the lab and see why they haven't gotten us the fingerprint results yet?"

"Oh, of course!" she said eagerly. As she passed, I heard her thank him for letting her help, and I shook my head. He could be such a suck-up.

Chang let out a snort just after the door closed. "Why do you keep fighting her off, Yuy? Obviously she's interested in you."

"And the Chief's daughter."

"That could work in your favor. He'd be less likely to suspend a son-in-law, wouldn't he?"

See? Suck-up. "Then why don't _you _ask her out?" I retorted.

"I have," came the abrupt and totally unexpected reply. "She turned me down. It's _you _she's after."

I stared at my partner for a moment, part of me wanting to find out the particulars of when and how he'd asked her for a date. But I decided it might be a sore subject. "Sorry, Chang."

"Sorry she prefers you?"

"Sorry you got shot down," I muttered. "She's an idiot."

Okay—let me state for the record, I meant that in a purely objective way. Chang was smart, focused, and dedicated to the job. He was also very good-looking, financially secure, and an excellent conversationalist, when he wanted to be. I'd never had any designs on him myself—but I had to acknowledge that any girl in her right mind _should_. 

He blinked in surprise, looking at me with a slightly perplexed expression. "I—was that a compliment, Yuy?"

"Yes," I said flatly, turning a few more pages. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I just don't think you've ever given me one before."

I resisted the urge to smirk, realizing that he was right. We were both very intense individuals, and immersed in our work—so we didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Bite me, Chang," I muttered wryly. "And get your ass back to work on those evidence files."

By late afternoon, we'd formed our basic plan of investigation, and were almost ready to leave to start hunting down people who knew Merquise for questioning. Chang was halfway to the door, grabbing his coat off the rack, when I saw the name listed as next of kin for Zechs Merquise.

"Chang, we need to stop at the Chief's office on the way out."

"Why?"

I just shook my head. "He hasn't been completely honest with us."

* * *

Chief Darlian looked up when we entered, not showing much surprise. In fact, he smiled ruefully. "Ah, Yuy. I've been expecting you."

I could almost feel the curiosity radiating off my partner.

"When were you going to tell us you and Merquise were related?" I asked coolly.

Wufei's head whipped around so fast it's a wonder he didn't snap his neck. "_What_?"

Without taking my gaze from the head of our precinct, I replied calmly. "Chief Darlian's wife, Lillian is listed as Merquise's next of kin."

"Yes," he admitted quietly. "He was her son from a previous marriage." He steepled his fingers together. "So, you see, I'm not really related to him, except by marriage. Relena is his half-sister."

"Holy shit!" Wufei exploded, eyes nearly popping from his head. "And in all the time we investigated Merquise you never thought to mention any of that?" he demanded in outrage.

"It would have been very embarrassing," he pointed out. "And completely irrelevant. I never even met Merquise, and it's been years since Lillian spoke with him. There are no family ties there, in actuality."

"If we'd ever been able to prosecute him, the integrity of the investigation could have been seriously jeopardized," Wufei said hotly, scowling at the very thought.

"If that had happened, I would have turned the prosecution over to another precinct altogether, or taken a leave of absence. But it didn't," said the Chief calmly. "Now, do you have any leads in your murder case?"

"We're on our way to see an informant who can fill us in on who was closest to Merquise, besides Khushrenada, of course," I told him.

"Well then, I suggest you get to it. And if you'd be so kind as to not mention the relationship to Relena? She never knew her older brother. His father had custody, and Lillian made sure to keep the families completely isolated."

"Relena's not stupid," I pointed out. "How could she not know she had a brother?"

"Zechs Merquise was born Milliardo Peacecraft—but changed his name around the time of his father's death. It's unlikely even a bright girl like my daughter would make that connection, and then only if she knew she'd had a brother." He shrugged slightly. "It's rather a moot point now anyway."

Moot point, indeed! I had to listen to my partner rant about that "moot point" all the way to the car.

* * *

When Chang and I walked into the pawn shop, the little bell over the door chiming happily, the man behind the counter looked up with a smile.

It faded the moment he saw us. "Aw, c'mon Yuy—Chang! I swear, I didn't know anything about it."

"About what?" I asked calmly, walking over to look at some expensive watches in the glass case he was standing behind. Chang eased over to one end of the counter, getting between Mueller and the back exit.

"Anything!"

I speared the man with a glare. "You're way too nervous today, Mueller. Makes me think you're hiding something."

"M-me? From you guys? Never!" He glanced back and forth between us. "What're you here for?"

"You tell me." 

He shrugged helplessly.

"What have you heard about Zechs Merquise's murder?" Wufei asked icily.

I leaned across the counter. "C'mon, Karl—I _know _people tell you things." 

Mueller eyed us both warily. "So you two got stuck on the case, eh?" He shook his head. "Tough break."

I shrugged casually, not at all surprised that the streetwise pawn broker had heard about the murder. Hell, since the reporters got wind of the story, there'd been little else on the news. "Maybe. Maybe not. We've got a boatload of evidence already. We just need a suspect."

He grinned nastily. "I could give you a list if you've got all day."

"Merquise had that many enemies?"

Mueller darted a glance towards Wufei, as if wishing the way out the back of the building was clear. "A man like him—shit yeah. Lotta enemies."

"Hm." I looked around the shop, running a practiced eye over the merchandise to scan for stolen property. It always provided such good leverage against a man like Mueller. "Chang—you got that list of missing jewelry?" I asked in an absent tone.

"Memorized it," Wufei assured me, starting to look around too.

"What do you want from me?" Mueller demanded quickly.

"Actually, not much at all," I said smoothly. "We're just hoping you can point us in the right direction. Did Merquise have a steady lover?"

The shifty-eyed man drew a sleeve across his face, glancing from me to Wufei. "You want to know about Merquise's lover?" He shrugged slightly. "All I know is he was supposedly shacking up with a stripper from one of the clubs he owned."

"C'mon, Mueller—a nosey little snitch like you has got to have more than that."

"I think the dancer worked at The Jungle."

I blinked, a bit startled by that revelation. "The Jungle's a _male_ strip club," I growled at him.

Chang looked sharply at me. "How do you—?" Then he bit off the question, looking quickly away. 

Fuck. All I needed was to have my partner realize I was gay and get edgy about it. I waved the file folder at Wufei. "I researched all his business ventures, Chang." I made my tone as scathing as possible, focusing my anger back on Mueller. "Are you saying Merquise was dating a guy?"

"That's what the talk on the street said," shrugged my informant. "Y'ever seen Merquise? Hair down to his waist? It surprise you to find out he was gay?"

Chang gave a derisive snort, gesturing to his own short ponytail. "The hair doesn't make the man, asshole. I'm as straight as they come."

I bit my lip to keep from smirking at the outrage on my partner's face. "Mueller!"

Beady eyes turned back to me.

"How about a name?"

He shook his head. "The man kept his personal life pretty quiet. But if you go to the club, the manager, Ms. Noin can probably tell you exactly who it was."

"You're a waste of space," I grumbled, fishing in my pocket for a twenty to pay the sniveling worm. 

He took the bill and stuffed it in his pocket. "Maybe if you tell me _why _you wanna find Merquise's boy toy, I can ask around and try to find out more."

I shook my head. There was no way in Hell I was going to let word get out that we might have a witness. In fact, I hoped Mueller thought we considered the lover a suspect. As I said before, if Khushrenada got wind of a potential eyewitness, the poor slob's life wouldn't be worth shit.

Mueller scowled. "Was worth a shot."

Yeah, and he meant it, too. The minute we were out the door, he'd probably be on the phone to either Noin or someone in Khushrenada's camp to tell them the cops were digging into Merquise's personal life. If I'd let out a hint of why, he'd no doubt try to sell that bit of information to whoever would pay the best price. I gave him my most intimidating glare. "Keep your ears open for us, Mueller, and your mouth shut."


	4. Exotic Places

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Four: Exotic Places

Wufei's scowl deepened as we pulled up outside The Jungle, and as I parked the car, I heard him muttering under his breath.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes, trying not to smirk. "Suck it up, Chang. It's just a strip joint."

"A _male _strip joint," he said stiffly.

"You see naked guys in the locker room all the time," I pointed out.

"That's different. They aren't flaunting it."

"I should hope not."

The bouncer at the door eyed our suits with a raised eyebrow and crossed his arms. I flashed my badge and he scowled deeply, stepping aside.

As we pushed through the doors, we were nearly overwhelmed by the smoke and noise. The place was mobbed. I heard Chang mutter something about the injustice of having to get the smell out of his hair and clothes later. He could be such a pussy at times, and I told him as much, getting a fierce glare and a raised middle finger in response.

The music was a steady, thrumming beat—slow and as dark as the atmosphere in the dusky club. And as we pushed and maneuvered our way towards the bar, hoping to find someone who could point out the manager's office, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to the dancer on the stage.

He was moving with the slow beat of the music, stalking the length of the stage with sinuous grace, and then slipping seamlessly into an exotic and erotic dance. Tall and slender, he had the long, lean muscle of a gymnast or acrobat. His reddish-brown hair hung across his face, though I saw the flash of deep green eyes as he paraded through his routine. 

All he wore was a leopard-print thong, and someone had painstakingly applied henna so that the pattern spread up his torso and across his chest and shoulders—then down his arms. Likewise his legs were mottled with leopard markings right down to the tops of his feet, which were bare. He hadn't gone so far as to wear ears or a tail, but his face was painted with exotic lines to accent nearly luminous eyes.

He looked and moved like a big cat on the hunt, and of course the song that was playing fit his act perfectly—phrases like "I wanna fuck you like an animal—" permeating the steady throb of the base. All in all, it was—arousing.

"Disgusting!" Chang spat under his breath.

I kept my opinion to myself. "We're not here for the floor show, Chang. We'll be out of here shortly."

"None too soon," he grumbled.

The bartender set two glasses in front of us. "Name your poison, gents."

I shook my head apologetically, displaying my badge once again. "Need to see the manager."

The guy grunted in response, a sour look crossing his face. "Wait here." He disappeared through a door to the back, and I glanced over at the stage again, trying to look like I was just sweeping the room for possible clues.

The leopard-skinned dancer was nearing the end of his routine, hips rocking in a suggestive, sinuous curve that mimicked sex, while the music rose in tempo and volume towards its own climax.

_Goddamn!_

I pulled my gaze away and turned back to the bar, wishing I'd asked the bartender for a glass of water at least. Fuck, my throat was dry all of a sudden.

Chang was leaning his elbows on the bar, eyes straight ahead, as if by distancing himself he could avoid being sullied by the very atmosphere.

A woman with short, dark hair walked out with the bartender, eyeing us appraisingly. "Can I help you—detectives?"

I smirked slightly. She hadn't missed the fact that we weren't in uniforms and were therefore not patrol officers. "Could we talk in private?"

"Certainly." She gestured us to follow her down a hall behind the bar.

The passageway was cramped and dark, leading past an opening that must have led to the stage, as there were scantily-clad men apparently preparing to go after the leopard performer. 

I almost snorted wryly. He'd be a tough act to follow. On the heels of that thought came the resolution to keep my mind off that compelling image. 

We entered a small office, and the woman gestured us to two chairs, sliding into one behind her desk. "I assume you're here investigating Mister Merquise's death," she said without preamble.

I flipped out my note pad. "And _you _are?"

"Lucrezia Noin—manager of this club. Mister Merquise was my employer." Something flickered in her dark eyes momentarily, and I wondered if she didn't have a small regret that they were nothing more than employee and boss.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Actually, it was some time ago. Several weeks. You see, Mister Merquise didn't believe in hovering over his employees. He let me do my job, send my weekly reports, and call in with any special problems or requests."

"Ah—so in essence, he sat back and let the money roll in?" Chang asked astutely. 

"Something like that," came her amused reply. Her gaze sharpened slightly—intensified. "Do you have any leads on the murderer?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's very early in the investigation, ma'am. We're really just interviewing anyone close to Merquise at this point to try to find out who might have had reason to do him harm." I shifted my grip on pen and paper. "As a matter of fact, we heard that he had a steady lover."

A knowing smile touched her lips.

"I take it you know him?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "He used to work here. But if you were thinking of making a suspect out of him, you're way off base. Duo adored Zechs; he'd be the last one who'd kill him."

"You said 'used to' work here," Wufei commented, never one to miss the subtle nuances in a conversation.

"Yes. He and Trowa did a show together."

"A—strip show?" Wufei asked with a disdainful grimace.

The woman gave a throaty chuckle. "Yes, a strip show. Hell, they practically fucked right there on the stage." She waved a hand at herself as if to cool off. "I'm not usually one to ogle the hired help—but frankly, I never missed their act."

"That's very nice," came my partner's dry, scornful reply. "Do you have a last name for this 'Duo' fellow?"

"Duo Maxwell," she told us.

"And do you know where we might find him?" I asked, hoping for an address or phone number at the very least.

"You could try the Sanc Palace. That's where he went to work after he hooked up with Mister Merquise."

So, our mystery witness had bettered his circumstances after meeting the crime lord. The Sanc Palace was one of the more "respectable" strip clubs in the area, drawing a slightly higher class of clientele than the dark, smoky Jungle.

"Do you have an address for him?" I pressed. "Maybe a phone number?"

She shook her head. "All his personnel records transferred to Sanc along with him. But Trowa would know—they were very close."

"Does 'Trowa' have a last name?" I asked.

"Barton."

"And where would we find this 'Trowa Barton'?" Wufei asked.

"Oh, you've already seen him," replied the club manager, with a small, enigmatic smile. "He was on stage just now."

Oh fuck! We were going to have to interview the leopard-skinned Adonis. And as much as I'd enjoyed the floor show, I wasn't at all sure I wanted to be in close quarters with such a drop-dead gorgeous guy—at least not with Chang at my side. 

"It would be helpful if we could talk to him," Wufei was saying, busily taking notes of his own. "Could you arrange it?"

She stood up, giving a curt nod. "He's got a break between shows. You two gentlemen can wait here, and I'll get him." She gestured to the wall behind her desk, which was littered with framed photographs of what were obviously male dancers. "If you'd like to know what Duo looks like, his picture's right there…the one with the braid."

She walked out, and I stood up restlessly, pacing across the small office to scan the pictures on the wall. "Maybe we should just get over to the Sanc Palace and see if Maxwell's working tonight," I suggested.

"We will—but if Barton can give us an address, it will help track Maxwell down whether he's at work or not."

I'd finally spotted the picture Noin had indicated, and nearly swallowed my tongue. If I'd thought Barton was gorgeous, that was nothing compared to the guy in tight black leather pants with a long, chestnut braid trailing down his back. He was facing away from the camera, but was half-turned, one hand resting on a butt-cheek, and the other braced up against a wall over his head. A devilish smirk and glimmering, half-lidded indigo eyes were framed by loose wisps of hair, as he apparently flirted with the photographer. I couldn't help feeling like I'd seen him before, though I doubted I could forget someone as blatantly sexual as him.

My thoughts were interrupted when Barton arrived, stepping in and leaving the door ajar, as if ensuring a way out. The auburn-haired performer still wore his exotic makeup, which made him ooze raw sexuality, but he'd thrown a shirt and jeans on over his, erm, costume. He eyed my partner and me warily, much as I imagined a real leopard might.

"Trowa Barton?" I asked.

He nodded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, before settling into the seat I'd vacated.

Wufei's nose wrinkled in distaste. He truly hated this part of an investigation—having to get down and dirty with people whose lifestyle he found repugnant. That was essentially two-thirds of our clientele. Face it—rich respectable people rarely were involved in the kinds of crime we investigated.

"You were Duo Maxwell's—dance partner?" Chang asked with a heavy hint of irony.

A trace of a smile touched one side of Barton's lips. "Something like that."

"Something?" Wufei growled. "Were you, or were you not?"

"We—performed together," Barton shrugged, his deep green eyes on me rather than Chang. 

"On and off stage?" I guessed, casually moving to sit on the edge of the desk, where I could fix a more intimidating stare on our witness. Unfortunately, it also brought me within range of his musky scent—a heady combination of sweat and maleness that almost made me drool.

He shrugged again. "Friends with benefits," he admitted.

"And when did you last see your 'friend with benefits'?" I asked coolly.

"He doesn't work here any more," came the evasive reply.

"That doesn't answer my question."

The green eyes fixed a sharp look on me. "I know that. I also know I'm not obligated to talk to the cops." He flashed a brief smile. "I'm just humoring you." His gaze lingered on my face, and I wondered if he was noticing my parted lips, and the way I was trying to regulate my breathing. I _knew _being in a small room with him was a bad idea.

I cleared my throat, focusing—with effort—on the purpose of the interview. "Have you seen Maxwell since Zechs Merquise's murder?"

"Why? Is he a suspect?"

"Right now we just want to talk to him," I said carefully. "Word on the street is he was dating Merquise and might have been with him the night he was killed." So I made that last part up; but I'd know for sure when forensics got back to us.

"I wouldn't know."

Was that a trace of jealously in Barton's voice?

"Wouldn't know what? That he was Merquise's lover—or whether he was with him that night?"

Trowa tossed his head, snuffed out the remains of his cigarette, and pulled out the pack for another. "Look—officers—."

"Detectives!" Wufei said stiffly.

Barton smiled just slightly, and I knew the insult had been intentional. He paused to light a cigarette and blow smoke into both of our faces. "Detectives—," he drawled snidely. "I've gotta go back on stage in fifteen minutes—and I'd like time to hit the john first. We about done?"

"Not until you tell me how close Maxwell and Merquise were."

He twined two fingers together. "Like that," he smirked.

"Lovers?"

He nodded, preparing to stand up.

I put a heavy hand on his wrist, giving him a narrow look. "Not so fast." Oh, fuck—was I actually touching him? Bad idea, when it let me feel the heat still emanating from his skin. 

"I answered your question," he growled impatiently. "Merquise and Maxwell were fucking. Okay? Can I go now?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"Because you just told me you might've had a motive for Merquise's murder."

The green eyes widened, and for a moment the man's jaw went slack. "Me? Why in Hell would I kill Merquise?"

"Jealousy, Barton. He was fucking your friend. Maybe you didn't like losing your benefits."

He jerked his wrist free, glaring at me. "Who _says_ I lost 'em? You think Merquise and Maxwell were exclusive? And d'you think I'd resent it if they were?"

"You tell me."

Placing both hands flat on the desk, Barton leaned in until we were almost nose to nose. His uniquely sexual scent was almost overpowering at that distance, and I had to force myself not to back off.

"Look—detective—Duo and I are friends—and yeah, we've fucked. But only to pass the time. We were never in love…but I think Merquise and he might've been. And believe it or not, I was happy for Duo…'bout time he found a guy who could better his lot in life and cared enough to try. Duo found a good thing in Zechs Merquise, and I'm the last person who would have wanted to take that away from him!"

"Then tell me where to find him so we can see if he knows enough to put away the murderer who did!"

The man pushed away from the desk, and I drew a relieved breath. "You're the big-shot detectives. Go ahead and 'detect.'" He turned and walked away, with the same sinuous, cat-like grace he'd shown on the stage.

"You want to take him downtown and see if an interrogation room makes him a little more cooperative?" Chang asked, his nostrils flaring in distaste as he waved away some of the lingering smoke.

My own nostrils might have flared as well—but in the hope of picking up one last wisp of the sexy dancer's erotic scent. "No. I hate to say it, but I think I believe him. He and Maxwell danced together—maybe shacked up—but Merquise's death wasn't the act of a jealous lover. It was an execution." I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming in frustration. "My gut tells me Khushrenada was behind it—but in order to prove it, we need an eyewitness—and Maxwell's the best lead we've got."

"But you let our link to him walk away—."

"No. Noin said Maxwell works at the Sanc Palace. I think we should try there."

"Another gay bar?" Wufei sighed.

"Actually, it's bi," I told him. "They've got ladies' nights and gents' nights." I was guessing Maxwell probably performed for both, as his picture made him look feminine enough to tempt guys who might be on the fence about their sexuality.

"How do you know so much about the place?" Wufei asked, giving me a fishy look.

"I did my homework, Chang." I gave him a glare that wiped the suspicion right off his face. "C'mon—let's go check the place out."


	5. The Chase

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun..no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Five: The Chase

Chang and I beat feet over to The Sanc Palace, hoping to catch Maxwell at work, since we'd been unable to get any other address on him. If worst came to worst, we could stake the place out. And it might not even tip our hand to Khushrenada.

I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

We made our way into a club that was a little less dank and smoky than The Jungle had been, once again gaining entrance by showing our badges to the man at the door. But this time the doorman spoke to an attendant, and we were escorted directly to the manager's office.

The guy introduced himself as Dermail, and offered us seats, which Chang and I both declined.

"This should only take a minute of your time," I told Mister Dermail. "We're detectives, investigating the death of Zechs Merquise. And we need to speak with an employee of yours. Is Duo Maxwell in tonight?"

"You just missed him," the man replied regretfully. "He picked up his paycheck about five minutes ago and gave his notice, effective immediately."

"He quit?" Chang asked, frustration obvious in the dark eyes. I knew I'd get an earful about not having grilled Barton harder about his former lover's address.

Dermail nodded. "A damn shame, too. He was very good at his job."

"Five minutes?" I mused. "Any chance he might've gone to say goodbye to anyone before leaving?"

"Well, now that you mention it, he might've gone backstage to say so long to the girls. They were all real fond of him…especially Hilde."

"Which way?" I asked quickly, hoping we might yet have a chance at the braided man.

"Out my door and to the left. Go to the end of the hall and you'll be in the staging area. Just be careful—the bouncers get kinda jumpy when men try to get near the dressing rooms, y'know. Gotta look out for the dancers."

I barely listened, already yanking the door open and heading down the hallway he'd indicated. 

Chang was at my heels. "Do you honestly think he stopped to visit?" he demanded irritably. "For Christ's sake, Yuy, he's obviously running. _Now _would you consider him a suspect instead of a witness?"

"Not yet!" I asserted, picking up the pace. "He could be running from Khushrenada's people."

We turned the corner and I immediately glimpsed a cluster of skimpily-clad women by the curtain at the edge of the stage. Standing with them, and with his back to us was our quarry, his braid trailing over the shoulder of the black leather jacket he wore. A motorcycle helmet dangled from one of his hands, and with his free arm, he was hugging a short, dark-haired girl.

Before I could stop my partner, he called out. "Duo Maxwell?"

He turned and saw the badge that Chang had stupidly started to take out, and in a flash, he'd darted behind a feather-clad female and disappeared behind the stage.

"Fuck!" I only hesitated long enough to cast a scathing glare at my idiot of a partner. "Get the car, Chang!" Then I sprinted after our quarry.

Maxwell was one fast sonofabitch. When I slammed out the back exit of the club, he was halfway down the alley, his boots thudding lightly on the concrete. He ran like he knew what he was doing—light on his feet, and with an almost effortless grace.

But I hadn't lettered in track in high school for nothing; I was on his trail in a flash, and gaining rapidly.

He turned the corner, his long braid flicking out behind him, and I briefly thought that if I could just get within range of that tail, I might be able to grab it and stop him. However, as I whipped around the corner, I had to hastily adjust my stride and leap over a garbage can he'd knocked down in my path.

So he wanted to play hard to get, eh?

I redoubled my efforts, seeing the slim figure turning into the next alley over. He was nearing the end of it when I came around the building, and I felt a surge of triumph. There was a tall chain link fence there, and it was guaranteed to slow him down.

My jaw dropped in amazement as he tossed his helmet aside and leapt like a hurdler, catching onto the fence halfway up, and scrambling to climb it.

"Stop! Police!" I shouted redundantly. He'd seen Chang's badge; he knew damned well who we were.

He rolled headfirst over the top of the fence, dropping to a crouch on the other side with a slight grunt of pain, and I mumbled a fervent prayer that he might've broken an ankle. I was scrambling up my side of the fence when he straightened and dashed off again, yanking trash cans into my path as he went.

I was over the fence in record time, and pounding along after him, leaping and sidestepping the obstacles he left behind.

As I came out of that alley, I saw Wufei's car turning a corner as he tried to follow our cat and mouse chase. I gestured in the direction Maxwell had gone, and resumed my pursuit, seeing that goddamned braid whip around yet another corner and out of sight.

When I rounded that bend, I was nearly hit in the face with a trash can lid he'd flung like a frisbee from halfway down the sidewalk. My frantic block made it bounce relatively harmlessly off my forearm, and I growled in anger as I redoubled my speed, my arm throbbing faintly from the blow. I swore when I caught the little bastard, I'd happily shove him face first into the nearest sidewalk!

But he was still moving like lightning, and I was beginning to feel the air burning in my lungs. Damn him anyway! Where did a stripper get that kind of stamina?

He led me a merry chase for another three blocks, and then a stockade fence brought him to a skidding halt less than fifty yards ahead of me. 

"Maxwell! Give it up!" I called. Okay, I gasped. And the odds were he couldn't hear my ragged breath of a voice from where he was.

Whether he did or not, he took a running start and leapt up to catch a fire escape ladder, scaling it in record time, and then clambering over the railing and throwing himself over the fence. I heard a crash on the far side as I was climbing the ladder myself, and when I'd reached the top, the barking of a dog. So I paused a second to look ahead and see that my quarry had landed on the top of a dumpster and nearly on top of a chained dog, who was straining to follow, as he sprinted away.

Not to be deterred, I threw myself after him, landing on the dumpster feet first and running across it to leap over the dog. I landed hard, but unscathed, and pelted off in pursuit.

I thought Maxwell might be slowing a bit, and I know I was gaining—but it all became a moot point as we burst out of the alley.

My partner had made a calculated guess, and with screeching tires, slid his car sideways into a row of trash cans, sending them scattering, and coming to a halt mere inches in front of the braided man I was chasing. Unable to adjust quickly enough, my quarry ended up slamming into the side of the car just in front of the driver's door, and coming to an abrupt, stunned halt on the hood.

I had time to control my deceleration, and simultaneously whip out the handcuffs, before slapping a firm hand down on the middle of the braided man's back, holding him still.

With Maxwell half-sprawled across the hood of Wufei's car, gasping to regain the wind that had been knocked out of him, it was a simple matter to grab his wrists and cuff his hands behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent," I told him between panting breaths, sliding my hands down his arms and deftly removing the knives concealed up his sleeves. "If you give up that right anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…" I pulled yet another knife from the top of a boot and then continued with the frisking. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you." I was running my hands down the inside of his thighs when I felt the outline of a knife that must have been taped to his leg. "Jesus Christ—how many weapons are you carrying?"

"Enough," he gasped out in an irritated voice. As my hand slid down the front of his abdomen, I felt him tense. "Easy, Dick Tracy…you don't have to go _that _far South!"

"Right." I very deliberately ran my hand all the way to his groin, just in case the guy was psycho enough to have stuffed a weapon in his shorts.

"Fuck!" he hissed, squirming uneasily.

I was pretty sure the hardness I felt down there wasn't a concealed weapon.

When I turned him around, there was an angry flush to his face. "You're an asshole!" he snarled.

"Sorry," I replied unrepentantly. "Who knew you were into handcuffs and leather?"

Indigo eyes narrowed as he glared at my face. "Apparently you are, too—took your fuckin' _time_!"

"If you didn't have so many goddamned knives, I could have been done in half the time," I retorted, irked that he thought I'd _enjoyed_ feeling him up.

"I need 'em for work," he growled.

"What's a stripper need concealed weapons for?"

"I'm not a stripper!" he spat coldly. "I'm their fucking bodyguard, shithead!"

Chang had left the car and gathered up the knives littering the street. "Moving up in the world, eh?" he said snidely. Then he shook his head. "Throw him in the back, Yuy, and let's get him downtown."

"Yeah—he'll need a strip-search when we get there," I snapped out irritably, shoving my captive into the back seat. "He's got a knife taped to the inside of his left thigh." I raised an accusing glare to my indignant prisoner. "How the hell do you reach a weapon under skin-tight leather?"

"It's for emergencies," he retorted.

Wufei gave a derisive snort. "Emergencies? Where? In a restroom?"

The indigo eyes flashed irritation. "There's other places to drop your pants, you uptight asshole."

We got in the car, and Chang headed for the station, while I kept a close eye on Maxwell. After chasing him for six blocks, I wasn't going to take any chances on losing him now.

He slumped against the back of the seat, and then turned his gaze back to me. "What am I being arrested for, anyway?"

I raised an eyebrow, and held up the evidence bag full of knives.

"I _told _you—they're for work," snarled Maxwell. 

"Then I take it you have a permit?"

"You can't be fuckin' serious!" He turned an indignant glare my way. "Where was your 'probable cause'?"

Ah—this guy knew the system very well. I figured he had a rap sheet as long as my arm. "You ran."

"Fuck."

He knew I had him. The minute he'd bolted, I had plenty of reason to pursue, and then to search him. 

We reached the station without further incident. Maxwell had fallen silent, stewing over his predicament, and I didn't want to tip our hand to him by discussing the case in his presence.

"Take him through booking, would you?" I asked my partner as we pulled up. "I want to go run his rap sheet." I glanced over my shoulder to see Maxwell's lips compress into a tight line; yeah, I knew there'd be some interesting reading in _his _file.

* * *

It took longer than I thought to get access to Maxwell's complete criminal history; apparently most of his arrests had been when he was a juvenile. But when I explained to the clerk that he was now a murder suspect, which was only a partial stretching of the truth, I got what I needed.

After I'd pulled his records, I ran down to booking to find Chang, and caught the tail end of Maxwell's processing. He'd taken off the snug jacket he'd been wearing earlier, and was wearing a tight black tank top underneath. But what drew my gaze wasn't the slim line of his waist or the way the material hugged well-sculpted abs; it was the tattoo on his left arm.

It was a stylized Grim Reaper, complete with a wicked-looking scythe and black wings that swept up and back from the hooded figure and wrapped around Maxwell's bicep, encircling the entire arm. The eyes stood out as brilliant violet splashes in the shadowed face, and under his feet the word "Shinigami" was emblazoned in a matching color.

And suddenly I knew why I had that vague feeling of familiarity with the braided man. I'd been on duty in vice the day he was brought in nearly three years earlier. He'd been caught breaking and entering a grocery store.

I rubbed my eyes for a moment, watching as they put the cuffs back on him and one of the officers tossed the plain black leather jacket across his shoulders.

But my mind was drawn back to the memory of him in that brown Reapers jacket, probably the same one we'd found in Merquise's bedroom, being dragged kicking and screaming through the squad room.

At first, I'd thought he was a girl—or to be more specific, a hooker. I mean, shit; two officers had the perp by the arms, hands cuffed behind, and all I could see was the back of that jacket and a braid that hung down almost to mid-thigh. I'd made a comment to my uniformed colleagues about the hookers getting more ornery lately, only to have a pair of furious indigo eyes and a decidedly male face turned my way in fury. 

"I ain't a hooker!" he'd snarled nastily, glaring and jerking against the arms holding him, until the jacket was half-off his shoulders, revealing a tattoo on his left bicep. It was that same stylized figure I was seeing again in the booking room on a much more muscular and mature-looking arm.

"I stand corrected," I had sneered. "But junkies don't rank any higher in my book, asshole."

At that point, he'd deliberately spit in my face, and across the paperwork on my desk. It didn't take me more than a split-second to vault the desk and make a grab for him. And by the time the two officers finished pulling us apart, the punk was sporting a black eye, and I was on suspension. Yeah, I remembered him all too well.

In fact, I was a little surprised he didn't recognize me. I had, after all, belted him a good one. But apparently the three-year lapse in time had allowed him to forget that incident. Now that I thought about it, the timing couldn't have been much before the Reapers were all killed off. I could see where that might have obliterated most of his recollection of a simple arrest. He'd had bigger things to worry about shortly thereafter.

How the hell had he survived the warehouse fire?

That was a question for another time, and I pushed it to the back of my mind. I needed to focus on the Merquise case, and Maxwell's potential as a witness, or even a suspect. I'd take what I could get.

* * *

Chang and I let Maxwell stew for a full hour, while we had coffee, scarfed down a quick meal, and started the paperwork for charging him—just in case. I also read through his rap sheet, which was—interesting—to say the least. He'd been arrested for everything from drug possession and picking pockets, to assault and breaking and entering. There were a few stolen cars thrown into the mix, some incidents of gang-related street fights, and one charge of public indecency and lewd conduct. You wouldn't _believe_ where he'd been caught having sex..I know _I_ didn't.

When I walked into the interview room, carrying my half-finished coffee, I swear Maxwell looked ready to kill someone.

"About fuckin' time!" he blurted angrily. "I want a lawyer."

Shit—he knew the drill _way _too well.

"It'll go easier for you if you just talk to us," I cautioned.

He eyed me up and down. "Gimme one good reason."

"I'll forget the concealed weapons, failure to obey an officer, and resisting arrest if you cooperate."

"That's mighty generous of you," he drawled snidely. "Is Quatre Winner still the public defender around here?"

"Sometimes."

"I want him."

"Literally or figuratively?" I asked, running my gaze down the lean body draped in the uncomfortable chair. 

He flashed a wolfish smile. "Hmm—both, I suppose. He's a very pretty kid."

"You like blondes."

He shrugged a lean shoulder, half-closing his eyes and looking up at me from under the lashes. "Why d'you say that?"

"Winner's a blonde…so was Merquise."

That drew the barest twitch of a response, and he looked away. "Who's Merquise?"

"The owner of the strip joint where you work," I reminded him. "The _murdered _owner. Don't even try telling me you don't know who was signing your paychecks." I leaned forward, glaring balefully at him. "—and sharing your bed."

He kept his gaze fixed on the door. "A lotta guys share my bed," he said flippantly. "Girls, too. 'S hard to keep track of names, y'know?" Then he looked straight at me, a hard, predatory look in the deep eyes. "How 'bout you? Y'want some?"

His comment took me by surprise, and I felt a hint of a blush on my face. But I kept my expression carefully neutral, and even managed to raise an eyebrow wryly. "No thanks, Maxwell. I don't need other people's leftovers."

His expression went from sly to stung to angry so fast I wasn't even sure I'd seen what I thought I saw. "Fuck you, cop," he sneered. "This interview's over 'til the hot blonde lawyer gets here."

"I'm afraid he's all booked up, Maxwell," I replied a bit smugly. "I might be able to round up Dorothy Catalonia, though. You don't mind a _female _p.d., do you?"

"Not if she's got blue eyes," he leered. "I got a thing for blue eyes, officer, not blonde hair."

I blinked, realizing he was staring into my blue eyes as he said that. "Detective," I corrected meticulously. 

Ignoring the rectification, he turned slightly on the seat, moving his cuffed hands restlessly. "Y'mind maybe taking the cuffs off if we're gonna be here awhile?"

Ah—progress.

"You give me something and I'll give you something," I shrugged. "Did you know Zechs Merquise?"

He scowled deeply. "Obviously, asshole, since I worked for him."

"And were you sleeping with him?"

"That's kind of personal."

"Yeah—especially considering it could place you at the crime scene," I pointed out. "So, when were you at his place last?"

"Whoa!" he blurted, looking genuinely worried. "You're not pinning a murder on _me_! I didn't kill Zechs!"

"Where were you on the tenth—around midnight?"

"In bed."

"With who?"

"Myself—all right?" he growled. "I _do _sometimes sleep alone."

"Ever been to Merquise's penthouse?"

Maxwell opened his mouth to answer and then shut it.

"Before you deny it," I added, "you might want to know we found _this _at his place." I pulled the leather jacket from the evidence bag and tossed it onto the table. The scythe across the back was done in a style identical to the one on Maxwell's tattoo. I wanted to hear what lame-assed explanation he might have for that.

"Lotta people have that jacket," he said, looking away.

"You mean _had_," I pointed out. "The Reapers have all been dead for years."

"Not all," he muttered, keeping his gaze studiously averted. 

I slapped his rap sheet down on the table. "How right you are. It says here you were suspected of an affiliation with the Reapers. And with a tattoo on your arm that matches this jacket, I'd say the suspicions were right on target. But you must've missed out on the massacre, eh? Looks like you're the last of their kind."

He shrugged elaborately, and the jacket on his shoulders slipped slightly, uncovering the tattoo again. "You going somewhere with this—detective? Or are you finally gonna get off your donut-padded ass and investigate the warehouse fire and who set it?"

Yeah—that was apparently as sore a point with him as it was with me. I hadn't liked not solving that case. The shift of power among the gangs had caused all sorts of upheaval, and it would have been nice to even the score by rounding up the perps and taking them out of the equation.

"We're not here for that," I said flatly. "We're here to discuss this jacket—and how it was found in Merquise's bedroom, along with enough bodily fluids to provide the lab boys with all kinds of nice DNA samples." I let my gaze travel the length of his chestnut hair. "_All kinds_," I repeated firmly. 

"So I was in Merquise's apartment now an' then," he admitted. "That ain't a crime."

"Murder is."

"I told you—I didn't kill him—I don't even own a gun!"

_Oh, busted! _We hadn't told the press how Merquise died.

And as soon as the words had left his mouth and he saw the expression on my face, Maxwell knew he'd slipped up.

Almost.

"Anything I say is fuckin' inadmissible!" he shouted, standing and leaning threateningly towards me. "I asked you for a goddamned lawyer hours ago! You can't even ask me questions!" He tugged futilely against the handcuffs, his chest heaving with frustration. "And what the fuck happened to 'I give you something and you give _me _something'?"

I let him finish the outburst, smiling faintly. Then I looked up into the angry indigo eyes. "You saw the killer."

His eyes widened in alarm. "I got nothin' to say to you!"

"You've already said plenty." I steepled my fingers under my chin. "You must've been in the bedroom when Merquise's killer showed up. There was no sign of forced entry, so he knew the person and let them in." I studied his slightly pale face. "Did you know them, too?"

He didn't reply, sinking back into the chair and shifting restlessly. 

"We know Merquise worked for Treize Khushrenada," I added, watching for a reaction. "Did he piss off his boss enough for him to send someone to take him out?"

"Go fuck yourself," came the listless reply. "I asked for a fuckin' lawyer, and this little chat session is over until one shows up."

"You bring a lawyer into this, and you can expect to be charged with first degree murder, Maxwell," I bluffed.

"Then charge me. Fuckin' charge me and get me my lawyer, or cut me loose!"

Stifling my frustration, I glanced up at the one-way glass I knew Chang was standing behind, and nodded for him to go call the public defender's office.


	6. Public Defender

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Six: Public Defender

It was nearly midnight by the time Quatre Winner showed up, and I grimaced as he was ushered into the interview room. I really would have preferred Dorothy Catalonia; Winner was far too adept at manipulating the system.

"Detective Yuy," he said warmly, shaking my hand. "Can I safely assume you haven't been questioning my client without me present?"

"Of course not—," I began, just as Maxwell said "Hell, yes!" He leveled a defiant glare at me.

"I merely tried to explain his options," I said diplomatically.

"You fuckin' grilled me for two hours!" Maxwell snarled. He turned a pleading look to the public defender. "How soon can you get me out of here, Quat?"

The young attorney tossed the release paperwork on the table in front of me. "I took the liberty of stopping at the desk on the way in." He turned those astute aquamarine eyes on his client. "I figured you'd want out."

I realized the two had history, and guessed Winner must have represented Maxwell after previous arrests; after all, the man had a rap sheet as long as my arm.

The bastard nodded eagerly, standing up and holding out his shackled wrists. I'd at least been gracious enough to change the cuffs from behind his back to in front so he'd be more comfortable—not that he appreciated the gesture.

I gave Maxwell my most patient smile, and then very deliberately addressed Winner. "Before you go throwing your client to the wolves, perhaps you should know how deeply in trouble he is."

An elegant eyebrow rose curiously. "I'm listening."

"We have reason to believe Mister Maxwell was in Zechs Merquise's penthouse at the time of his death."

Winner glanced aside at Maxwell, apparently assessing his reaction.

"We have DNA, fingerprints, and even a piece of clothing belonging to your client." I dared a peek at Maxwell's face, which was set in a mask of indifference that didn't fool me for a minute. "He also knew how Merquise was killed—a piece of information we kept from the press."

"Ah, and did he reveal that fact during the two-hour grilling without benefit of attorney?" asked Winner calmly. Yes, he was an excellent public defender—one of the very best. "Because that would render it inadmissible in court."

"I know that," I snarled irritably. "If I wanted to try him for the murder, I'd have more than enough evidence even without what he's told me," I pointed out. "But I don't think he did it."

They both looked a bit surprised at that. So Maxwell _had_ taken my threat to charge him with murder seriously.

"In fact," I continued smoothly. "I'd bet a substantial sum of money that he _witnessed_ it." I paused to let the implications sink in. "I'd also bet that Treize Khushrenada had a hand in it. If word got out on the street that Maxwell saw who killed Merquise…"

Quatre's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shared a glance with Maxwell before fixing me with a glare. "And just how would that sort of rumor get started? You aren't suggesting that you'd leak that kind of information, are you? Because if you are—."

"No! I'm the last person who'd want to leak that information," I snapped. "I'd like nothing better than to nail Khushrenada for this. And if Maxwell could identify the killer, we might be able to coerce that person into giving him up as the one who gave the order."

Maxwell snorted wryly, leaning in to whisper in Winner's ear.

The attorney went uncharacteristically pale, turning a startled look to his client. "A-are you sure?"

Maxwell just gave him a withering look, and shrugged one shoulder.

"Duo, maybe you should cooperate—."

"No!" Maxwell spat coldly. "I'm not giving these assholes a goddamned thing, Winner. And if you're gonna try to make me, then get the fuck off my case and get that Catalonia chick in here!"

Quatre looked nonplussed, and then drew a deep breath. "I'd like a minute alone with him, detective."

I nodded, stepping closer to the lawyer as I moved towards the door. "Talk some sense into him, Winner. If he saw something, we _need _his testimony. And we're prepared to protect him in order to safeguard it."

"Protect me?" Maxwell blurted, a look of frank disbelief on his face. "I'm a fuckin' bodyguard, Yuy. I don't need your protection."

I fixed my sternest glare on him. "If you have information that could harm Treize Khushrenada, you need all the protection you can get. Do you have any idea how far his reach extends?"

"Do you?" came the unhesitating reply. The indigo eyes shone with something I'd have called fear in almost anyone else. "I'm not gonna cross Khushrenada. I'm not that stupid. I've got nothing to tell you guys about Zechs' murder. So you may as well cut me loose and get back to chasing your tails." He shook his head, mouth twisting in a wry smile. "You're wasting your time on Khushrenada. He's way out of your league."

"So you admit he had something to do with Merquise's death—and that you witnessed it?"

"I admit nothing!" he snapped back, giving Winner a sidelong glance.

The attorney gave me an impatient scowl and made a shooing gesture for me to leave. But I paused at the door for a parting shot. "Just remember, Maxwell—we found you. And so can Khushrenada."

He raised his chin defiantly. "I'm no stoolie."

"Tell it to Treize's boys when they show up to silence you," I suggested before stepping out of the room.

I felt no compunction at all about going into the booth where Wufei was recording the interview, and tapping the intercom switch so we could listen in.

Yes, it was completely illegal, and totally inadmissible in court. Sue me.

"Duo—I want you to reconsider cooperating with the police," Quatre said, letting a breath out in a distressed sigh. "Yuy was right. If the authorities found you, Khushrenada can, too. And he'll do whatever it takes to keep you off the witness stand."

Maxwell slumped back into the chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "Goddamn it, Quat! I'm not a sellout."

"No one's suggesting you are," soothed the attorney. "But if what you say is true—you _can't _hide from this. You have to help the police get him before he gets you."

_Yes! Good little attorney! Talk your uncooperative asshole of a client into seeing reason._

"There is no 'getting' Khushrenada!" Maxwell said hotly. "He's got a freakin' army of goons all set to do his bidding. The only chance I've got is to disappear—on my own."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Y'kinda need money for that, Q-man," came an almost weary response. "And I didn't have any. When I took off from Zechs' place, I had the clothes on my back an' nothing else. I hightailed it over to Trowa's, because I didn't dare go back to my own apartment." He tugged at his shirt front. "He let me hide out there, and loaned me some clothes and some cash—but I needed to collect my last paycheck from Sanc so I'd have running money. That's when the cops showed up."

I studied Maxwell with a critical gaze. He did look pretty worn—with dark circles under his eyes that I had attributed to late hours and dissolute living. But maybe there was more to it. If I'd witnessed what he had, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have slept a wink either. Bad enough he'd seen his lover get his brains splattered all over an expensive Persian rug—but to know that the man who orchestrated the crime wielded unimaginable influence throughout the entire city—. He must have felt the pressure to avoid discovery from the moment he fled the penthouse.

But whether he liked the notion or not, the cat was already out of the bag. If we'd dug up enough evidence to point to there being a witness to the murder, so could Khushrenada. Even if Maxwell didn't realize it yet, he was already a marked man.

"If word gets out that we have a witness who can identify the killer as one of Khushrenada's employees, how the hell are we going to keep him alive to testify?" Chang asked despairingly. His onyx eyes fixed a tense look on me. "I'm not naïve enough to think there are no leaks in this department, Yuy."

"Neither am I," I sighed. "But look at it this way, we're prepared to offer protection to the shooter if he rolls over on his boss. It won't be any harder keeping Maxwell alive until he can identify the shooter."

"It also won't be any easier."

I focused my attention back on Maxwell and Winner, who had crossed to stand beside the distraught young man, running a soothing hand across his shoulders.

"—who'll be able to protect you—keep you alive to testify and get you into a witness relocation program."

"Fuck that!" Maxwell snarled, pushing to his feet and pacing restlessly across the room. "I'm not gonna do it, Winner. I'm not trusting a bunch of flat-footed, donut-eating morons to watch my back. Half of 'em are probably on the take anyway, and would sell me out to Khushrenada for the price of a six-pack."

Winner shook his head. "I've done a little homework. Yuy and Chang are not only _not _on the take—they tend to be rather overzealously dedicated."

Maxwell made a rude sound. "Yeah, I kinda got that impression when they flung me across the hood of a car and cuffed me."

His attorney shot him a keen look. "Were they out of line?"

I waited for a rant about "police brutality," but Maxwell just shrugged and smiled ruefully. "I s'pose not," he conceded. "A little rough—but then I'd made Yuy chase me six blocks before his partner cut me off in the car. We were all a bit—excited."

Quatre chuckled. "Oh, Duo—only you…"

I scowled, a bit surprised by the way Maxwell suddenly seemed to relax, his anger and frustration ebbing away.

He looked at his lawyer with a faint frown. "I'm serious about walking away from this, Quatre. I won't testify. I won't go up against Khushrenada."

"And what if he decides to try to silence you anyway—just in case?"

"Don't worry. I've been watching my back a lot of years. I can do it a few more," came the too-cocky reply.

My stomach knotted at his complacency. Did he truly have no idea how powerful Khushrenada was?

"He's as good as dead if he walks out of here," Wufei sighed. "How about we hold him for twenty-four hours, make him look at a few mug shots, and try to get him to talk? We'd at least have a statement on file when he ends up in the morgue."

"He's not gonna talk," I muttered unhappily. "At least not until he wakes up and smells the coffee; and by then, I'm pretty sure it'll be too late."

"You know we're not going to find a murder weapon, let alone tie it to Khushrenada's people. If we lose Maxwell, we may as well close the fucking case."

"We won't lose him," I swore with determination. "For starters, I'll put a tail on him. And I'll get the boys in surveillance to keep an eye on Khushrenada's movements. If it looks like Maxwell might become a target, we'll pick him up again."

"On what grounds?"

I smirked grimly. "Look at him, Chang…we could make a case for suspicious behavior based on his looks alone." I looked back at our witness, taking in the tight clubbing clothes, the long hair, and the defiant gleam in the indigo eyes. "He looks like a walking violation."

"True," agreed my partner, shaking his head. "Why can't our witnesses ever be good looking young women with manners and charm?"

It was my turn to snort. "Because good looking young women with manners and charm don't hang around with drug dealers, hookers, and murderers."

"Touché."

Winner had given up begging his client to accept our protection, and he walked over to the two-way mirror, tapping lightly. He knew perfectly well I was behind there watching the whole scenario.

Granted, he probably didn't realize I'd listened in; that would have been highly unethical on my part.

Screw ethics. I had a murderer to catch.

I went out into the hall, and Winner met me at the door to the interview room. "Sorry, Yuy. He's not ready to cooperate yet."

"Are you suggesting he might be later?"

He shrugged. "Maybe after someone takes a shot at him, his instinct for self-preservation will kick in."

"It'll be too late."

He gave me a genuinely sympathetic look. "I'll keep working on him."

Maxwell strolled over then, holding out his handcuffed wrists. "Get these the fuck off me, give me my knives back, and let me the fuck out of here," he said flatly.

I forced a patronizing smile as I removed the shackles, still trying to think of any delaying tactic I could. "You can go very soon," I replied as if I were talking to someone a bit stupid.

"Now," he snarled back.

"Are you in such a hurry to die?" I taunted, still making sure I was blocking the door with my body.

When he merely stood there tapping a foot restlessly, I gestured to the chair he'd vacated. "You may as well sit back down. It's going to be a few more minutes."

He glanced at Winner, who shrugged slightly, giving me a searching look, before heading back towards the table.

"What have you got up your sleeve, Yuy?" asked the sharp lawyer, glancing warily at me.

"I sent for someone from forensics to come up and get a sample of DNA from Maxwell—to compare to Merquise's apartment." It was a complete lie—but I wanted one last chance to try to impress upon him how dangerous it would be for him to leave. At least it got him to follow Winner and me back into the room.

"And you need his DNA why?" asked Winner.

"In case my boss decides tomorrow that she wants us to charge him with the murder."

Maxwell stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing viciously. "You want a fuckin' DNA sample?" he sneered. Then he very deliberately walked over and spit on my paperwork on the interrogation table. "There's your goddamned sample." He turned on a heel, ignoring Winner's shocked expression, and walked to the door, pausing to look back at me with a challenging glare. "Y'gonna give me another black eye, Yuy?" he asked icily.

Fuck! And I'd thought he failed to recognize me after three years had elapsed. But the observant little bastard hadn't. He clearly remembered our first meeting, and how unpleasant it had been for both of us. I suppose I should have been glad he spit on the table, instead of on me this time.

"I'd love to," I snarled just as coldly. "But at least _I've_ matured a bit, asshole."

He smirked darkly, flipped me the finger, and walked out.

"Khushrenada got to Merquise! He can get to you!" I called after him, following as far as the door and watching the sinuous grace of the way he walked, vaguely recalling his dance partner's act. Then I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a tension headache coming on. "For God's sake, Winner—get him to come back in," I pleaded.

Quatre smiled enigmatically. "It _would _be a shame for a pretty thing like him to end up dead, wouldn't it?"

I darted him a glare. "I have no interest in Maxwell beyond his ability to testify against Merquise's killer."

The smile widened. "Of course not. But you have to admit, he's quite stunning. No wonder Merquise took him as a lover. If I weren't his attorney, I'd be tempted."

"Look—_counselor_—this isn't about how much of a pretty boy Maxwell is. His fucking life is at stake here. You and he both better start taking that seriously."

"Oh, I do," the lawyer assured me. "I've known Duo for years. I almost consider him a friend. I'm the last person who wants to see anything bad happen to him."

"Then talk sense to the stubborn idiot, will you?"

"I'll do my best." He headed down the hall, calling for Maxwell to "wait up," and I leaned wearily against the wall as Wufei came out to stand beside me.

"I called downstairs and told Kelly to put a tail on him. If we catch wind of trouble, we'll at least know where Maxwell is."

"Fat lot of good that'll do us when someone drives by and opens up on him," I muttered, shaking my head and turning towards our office. "Let's talk to Po about this first thing in the morning and find out what she wants us to do next."


	7. Meeting the Enemy

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: There's a yummy fanart picture of Trowa's act at The Jungle. For anyone interested, go to livejournal, the user name t-shirt1x2, and the entry "Trowa fanart."

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Seven: Meeting the Enemy

Captain Po was less than thrilled with Chang and me when we showed up in her office the next morning to explain our apprehension and release of Maxwell.

"Tell me again why you didn't charge him with murder?" she asked icily, giving us both that scathing glare she was known for.

"Because we think he's a witness, rather than the killer," I reminded her.

"You have his fingerprints in the apartment, DNA that could be matched, his admission that he and Merquise were lovers. What more do you want?"

"A motive would be nice," I replied steadily. "And frankly I can't picture how he'd have gotten Merquise on his knees at the door like that."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she blurted. "They were gay, Yuy! For all you know Merquise was giving Maxwell a blow job when he decided to kill him."

While that presented an interesting and very gruesome image, it didn't fit what I'd observed of the crime scene. "Captain, there were dishes in the sink and they'd had sex in the bed. Why wouldn't Maxwell have shot Merquise _there_? Why commit the murder at the door?"

"Well if you'd hung onto the suspect, we could have asked him that," she snapped curtly. "I want you two to pick him up again. And this time charge him with murder and keep him locked up while we finish the investigation."

"That could be a problem," Wufei admitted reluctantly. "He slipped the tail we put on him within an hour."

She rolled her eyes. "Lovely."

"What we'd really like to do is talk to Khushrenada," I said carefully.

"Khushrenada," she echoed. "Yuy, do you understand how untouchable that man is?"

"I understand that despite a lack of usable evidence, we know damned well he's a criminal!"

"Knowing it is a far cry from _proving _it," she pointed out.

"Yes, but if we can shake him up a bit—let him know we suspect him, and that we're digging up dirt on him—he might let something slip," I suggested.

"Or he might sue the department for slander."

"How can questioning him about a business associate's death be considered slander?" Chang asked coolly.

Captain Po fixed a snide glare on me. "Yuy's not known for his tact."

If I expected my partner to jump to my defense, I was sadly mistaken. "No," he conceded. "Which is why I'll ask the questions and Yuy can just stand there and look tough."

_What the fuck? _

"I'm perfectly capable of treating the man civilly," I said curtly. And that was true. I mean, even after Maxwell spit on my paperwork on the interrogation desk, I hadn't stooped to violence—or even threats—unlike the _first_ time he and I crossed paths three years earlier. Obviously I had matured a bit. I could certainly keep my cool around an aristocratic business exec like Khushrenada.

"Let Chang do the talking," ordered the Captain. "And keep it short and to the point. Then get your asses back here to go over the forensic reports while I send a couple of uniforms to track down your wayward suspect."

"You mean Maxwell?"

"Do you have any other missing suspects?"

"He's a witness," I insisted, somehow deeply convinced of that fact, despite evidence to the contrary.

I pondered that on the way to Khushrenada's high rise office building. Maybe it was the way Ms. Noin had said that "Duo adored Zechs," or the casual way Barton had said he'd "found a good thing in Zechs Merquise." But I got the distinct feeling there'd been something genuine between the crime lord and the ex-stripper. And in spite of Maxwell's perfectly vile attitude, he just didn't strike me as violent or crazed, like someone would have had to be in order to coldly shoot a lover between the eyes.

That's not to say I thought he had any redeeming qualities. He was bad news from head to toe. I just didn't think he was a murderer.

* * *

Chang and I were escorted into Khushrenada's office, which was bigger than my entire apartment. And Wufei's. Combined.

I saw my partner's head turn as he looked all around the huge place, mouth slightly agape.

"Lovely view," I said wryly, noticing the row of floor to ceiling windows along an entire wall.

"Why thank you," came a smooth, cultured voice. The tall chair behind the mahogany desk turned and an aristocratic-looking man stood up.

"Mister Khushrenada?" I guessed.

He inclined his head politely, gesturing us to seats opposite him. "And you are?"

"Detective Yuy, and Detective Chang," I told him, indicating first myself and then my partner. And since that aforementioned "partner" was still looking a bit bemused by the luxurious surroundings, I went ahead with the interview, in spite of Captain Po's instructions. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

He nodded agreeably. "I'm always happy to cooperate with the authorities," he said with a flash of white teeth.

He stood up, walking over to a liquor cabinet and picking up what looked like a bottle of very expensive cognac. "Could I offer you a drink?"

"We're on duty," Chang said stiffly.

"Thanks anyway," I added, gritting my teeth slightly. The wealthy man was beginning to grate on my nerves with his smooth manners and forced civility.

"Suit yourselves," he said with a shrug, pouring himself a glass and returning to his seat. "Now how may I help you gentlemen?"

"Could you tell us the nature of your relationship with Zechs Merquise?" I asked bluntly.

"Ah. I see what this is about," he said in realization. "Zechs and I were business associates. He oversaw several of my enterprises, as well as a few of his own."

"Did that make you his boss or his partner?"

"Hm—a combination of the two?" he suggested. "But in reality, I was more his boss than anything else."

"Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?"

"He had some enemies," came the non-answer. "Just as I do."

"Can you name them?"

"Rival club owners—disgruntled business associates—perhaps an angry lover or two?" Khushrenada shrugged elaborately. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know them by name. I just know what little he confided to me about his—difficulties."

"I see. Can you remember your whereabouts on the night he died?"

"I believe I worked very late," he said with a weary sigh. "My assistant Une could vouch for that."

"Exactly how late?" I pressed.

"I don't think I left the office much before midnight—maybe even one."

And Merquise's time of death had been narrowed down to twelve-thirty. How very convenient.

The tall man stood up, walking over to stand at one of his big windows, looking out across the city. "Am I safe in assuming you've no suspects at this juncture?"

"On the contrary," I said smoothly. "We've got many. Too many. We'd like to narrow the field a bit."

"Well, feel free to cross my name off your list," he said graciously.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to do that," I replied, less graciously. "You have only the word of your assistant that you worked late that night?"

"Miss Une is completely reliable," he shrugged, seeming not at all offended by my refusal to drop him as a suspect. "If you'd like, you may see her on your way out. Her office is just to the left of my receptionist's."

"We'll certainly stop there," Chang assured him, darting me a wary look. I could tell he wanted to believe the smooth, cultured man we were interviewing. And even more to the point, he didn't want me to offend him.

"Then, are we finished, gentlemen?"

"For now," I cautioned.

He turned and fixed a look on me that made my muscles tense. On the surface, it appeared benign—he wore a faint smile. But it didn't reach the cold eyes, which studied me with nothing less than malice. "You're a stubborn man, Mister Yuy."

"So I've been told."

His eyes narrowed. "That can be—unhealthy," he added.

_A threat? _I didn't think he'd be foolish enough to threaten me.

"Stubbornness is akin to obsession," he continued with the same smooth tone. "And obsession can make you blind to the truth."

"Or it can lead you to it," I growled back. "And rest assured, we'll get to the truth of this case, Mister Khushrenada."

"Justice will be served," Chang agreed, apparently sensing the same challenge I had.

We took our leave of the posh office, stepping out into the hallway to find a woman waiting for us by the receptionist's desk. "I'm Miss Une—Mister Khushrenada buzzed me and said you'd like a word with me."

Well he didn't miss a trick. I studied the woman carefully. She wore her hair in a tight bun, and thick glasses on a lean, spinster-like face. But there was a gleam of intelligence in her dark eyes that made alarms go off in my head. She was much too smart for an administrative assistant. Either Khushrenada lied about the scope of her duties, or she was the most overqualified assistant I'd ever seen.

"How long have you worked for Mister Khushrenada?" Chang asked without preamble, pulling out his note pad and scribbling away.

"Four—no, five years."

"And can you tell us where he was the night of the tenth?"

"Here," she said smoothly. "We had a big account meeting coming up, and he stayed late and kept me with him to help."

"How late?" I asked.

"It was nearly one in the morning before we closed up and left. You could check with his driver, if you'd like." She held out a slip of paper with a name and number on it.

I had no doubt every one of Khushrenada's employees had been thoroughly coached on what to say regarding his whereabouts that night. We weren't going to find a damned thing out this way.

As we left, having gleaned what meager information we could from Khushrenada and his devoted assistant, Chang blew out a breath of frustrated air. "This is a dead-end, Yuy. We'll never get one of his employees to roll on Khushrenada."

"Obviously," I sighed in agreement, feeling the dull weight of defeat in the pit of my stomach. "Besides, what would an employee tell us? That Khushrenada supervised the murder in person? He might very well have been right here in his office when Zechs died. That doesn't mean he didn't order it to happen."

"More to the point," he added. "Assuming we can get Maxwell to testify, and that he puts Khushrenada or one of his people at the scene of the crime, do you think a jury would believe him over Khushrenada and his employees?"

Tough call. Would a jury believe a smooth, eloquent liar, or a crude, streetwise, but straightforward punk? I knew who I'd listen to.

"Maxwell's not smooth or tactful," I admitted. "But you can tell when he's being honest as opposed to evasive."

"Yes," Chang agreed. "Generally his honesty seems to be preceded by the f-word."

"Yeah, and followed by it—and accented in the middle by it—." I managed a grin for the first time that day, albeit a rueful one.

* * *

When Chang and I got back to the precinct, there were literally reams of evidence waiting for us. The DNA results had come back, and although we didn't yet have the results on Maxwell's to match it with, we knew Zechs' bedmate had been a guy. We could easily get a search warrant for Maxwell's apartment based on the facts at hand—there wasn't a judge in the world who'd deny us.

But I still held on to the firm conviction that Maxwell was a better witness than suspect. And as I examined the forensic reports, I was looking for clues that would implicate Khushrenada's people, rather than Maxwell.

"Chang…I've got DNA results here for female hair samples at Merquise's place."

"Female? Where was that found?"

"Near the entrance." I frowned at the page. "Female hair sample, brunette, several inches…and there's a blonde one, shorter, and not matching the first." I looked up with a scowl.

Chang looked dubiously at me. "Jenkins is a blonde—from the coroner's office."

Oh. Right. Before I got excited, we'd have to cross-check the DNA results with those on file for the forensics people, our people, and the coroner's crew. Fuck.

"Where's the cross-check report?" I growled, shuffling through the papers. "Look! There are pages missing, Chang!"

He came to look over my shoulder. "Hm. So there are," he sighed. "In fact, all of the inter-departmental cross-references are missing…fingerprints, DNA, shoeprints…"

"Damn it—those are supposed to be automatic!" I groused. "Do we have to tell the whole fucking crew how to do their jobs?"

"Apparently."

"I'll take a walk down and see what they've got to say for themselves." I was spoiling for a fight by then, having been chewed out by our boss, stonewalled by Khushrenada and his people, and now deprived of vital information by our own lab crew.

When I rapped on the door and walked into the office, the clerk at the desk looked up in surprise. He even had the brains to look intimidated as I stared him down.

"Um, it's a little early for the results on that suspect you had in last night," he said carefully.

"No shit," I growled. "I'm more concerned with the missing cross-references in the stuff you've already sent up."

"Missing—?" He shook his head. "I know they're in there, Detective Yuy. I printed them up myself…over twenty pages of comparisons and cross-checks."

"Then where are they?" I stormed, banging a fist on the desk. "We haven't got time for screw-ups!"

"Nobody here screwed anything up," he said heatedly, scowling back at me. "I sent Miss Darlian up with a whole box of shit. It was all in there. Maybe you and your partner need to look through it a little more carefully!"

"And maybe you people down here need to get your heads out of your asses," I countered.

His supervisor had heard our altercation by now, and wandered out of his office. "What seems to be the problem, detective?"

"The report your people sent up was missing all the cross-reference material," I told him icily. "Chang and I both looked for it. It's not in there. And with at least two female hair samples in the mix, I need to be able to rule out our crews before I can proceed with the investigation."

He glanced at his clerk, who shook his head. "I swear, it all got printed up and hand-carried by Relena, sir."

"Well, print it again," he said in a conciliatory tone. He glanced warily at me, and I couldn't tell if he believed me or his own employee. "I'll bring it up myself, Yuy. Give us half an hour?"

While I still wanted to punch a wall—or someone—I held my temper in check and gave a curt nod. "The sooner the better," I said gruffly, turning and stalking out of the office.

I took the stairs instead of the elevator, quite sure I needed the exercise to let out a little tension, and as I came out the door onto our floor, I nearly bumped into Relena.

"Heero!" She gave a little, flustered smile. "Where have you been?"

"Down in the lab chewing out the incompetent idiots who forgot the cross-references in the forensics reports on the Merquise case," I snarled.

Her eyes widened. "Oh. What a shame. Could I be of any help? Maybe I can go down there to wait for them."

"No, it's fine. Powers is bringing them up later." As I started down the hallway, she fell in step with me.

"Um, Heero, I was wondering if you might get finished early enough tonight to maybe come to a movie…or something?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, Relena, Chang and I are likely to be on this case at all kinds of hours. A lot of the people involved are, well, night owls. Merquise's clubs aren't open during the morning hours, so all our interviews have to be done evenings or nights."

"But if all you have to do tonight is read forensics reports, surely you could slip out for a decent meal," she persisted. "My treat?"

I sighed, resisting the urge to tell her to fuck off. "Look, Relena, this is just not the time for socializing. This case is too important, and my time is too precious."

We'd reached the office by then, and I noticed Wufei's gaze slide to Relena as she walked in with me. But after a quick nod of greeting, he gestured to the pile of papers on the desk. "Yuy, I've been through them twice. There are a lot more fingerprints and samples listed than we have results on."

"They're printing up fresh copies," I told him. "Powers is bringing them up personally. I'm especially interested in finding out who the female hair samples belonged to. Jenkins may be a blonde, but Une was a brunette—and I have a feeling she's in this at least as deep as Khushrenada."

Relena lingered in the doorway for a moment, and then shifted uneasily and turned and left.

Wufei cast a puzzled look after her. "She left in a bit of a hurry," he noted.

"Good," I muttered. "I could have done without her invitation to dinner and a movie."

"You didn't insult her, did you?" he asked reproachfully. "She seemed flustered just now."

"Of course I didn't," I scoffed. "Her father is my boss' boss." I began stacking reports according to which facet of the investigation they pertained to. "Besides, I know enough that if I can't be kind, I can at least be vague."

"I don't see why you can't just give her a chance," he mumbled, almost to himself. "She's smart, pretty, well-connected…"

_And female. _

"You want to keep your mind on work, please?" I asked testily.

He shot me a glare and resumed shuffling through his pile of papers.

Not five minutes later, Relena reappeared in the doorway, giving me a warm smile before gesturing to the front desk. "There's a man who says he needs to talk to you or Chang. He wouldn't say a word to anyone else."

I shot to my feet, wondering if Maxwell had finally come to his senses. "Does he have long hair? In a braid?"

She looked a bit confused, and frowned. "No—actually he's nearly bald—an older gentleman."

Chang looked over at me, apparently having thought the same thing, and we exchanged disappointed scowls.

"I'll see who it is," I sighed, getting up and following Relena.

She glanced questioningly at me as we headed down the hall. "I heard a rumor from the guys in booking that you had a suspect in the Merquise case."

"Suspect—witness—we aren't exactly sure," I shrugged. "I was hoping that's who was at the front desk, actually."

"Oh—a guy with a braid?"

_A braid, a tattoo, and an attitude as foul as his mouth. _

I nodded. "We think he might've seen something that would help with the investigation," I told her vaguely.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Relena, but sharing the details of a case with anyone other than my partner or my boss was not in my nature.

"Well, I hope he does show up," she said helpfully.

"Me too," I sighed, opening the door at the end of the hall, and heading for the main desk. When I saw the chunky man hovering in a corner of the waiting room, I frowned. "Mueller?"

The pawn broker glanced nervously around and sidled over to me. "Can we talk somewhere, Yuy? I've got news you're gonna want to hear."

"Better be worth it," I warned, ushering him into the hallway. I nodded to Relena. "Thanks for letting me know he was here."

"Sure." She gave a disappointed sigh and headed back towards the file room.

"All right, Mueller. Spill it." I suggested, leaning against the wall.

"You've got trouble, Yuy. Word got out that you found a witness to Merquise's murder. Now there's a rumor that someone—naming no names—is willing to pay top dollar to see a fellow called Duo Maxwell six feet under."

"Fuck!" I wanted to slap my palm to my forehead in the universal gesture of frustration. Why in Hell had I let Maxwell walk out of that interrogation room?

"Yeah, 'fuck.' You should hear what they're willing to pay."

"And that is—?"

He rubbed at a stubbly cheek. "What's it worth to you?"

"It's worth forgetting how much stolen merchandise is probably gathering dust on your shelves right now," I snarled.

"But I spent thirty bucks on a cab to get down here," he grumbled.

I reached out and took his shirt front in a choking grip. "I've had a really bad day, Mueller. This is not the time to jerk me around!"

"So far the price is a hundred grand on your boy's head," he told me grudgingly. "You got him locked up somewhere safe?"

I was about to blurt out "Hell no!" when common sense kicked in and I saw the hungry glimmer in Mueller's eyes. "That's not your problem," I said instead. "And I'm not confirming or denying that we have a witness."

"You don't have to," he chuckled. "Your reaction to the news said it all. You've got one, and it's Maxwell. The only question is, can you keep him alive long enough to testify?"

At that moment Wufei came pelting down the hall, tossing my coat into my arms. "C'mon, Yuy! We've got to get down to Sisters of Mercy Hospital. A car bomb just went off outside Winner's office and I'll give you three guesses as to who was probably in it!"

"Fuck!" I shoved Mueller back. "Too little, too late, shithead!" I growled. "You should've called me instead of coming here and trying to shake me down."

He shrugged, actually looking a little unhappy. "Sorry, Yuy, I swear. I just wanted to bring the news in person. You never know who might hear you making a phone call."

"Goddamn Khushrenada," I muttered under my breath as I turned away from Mueller and set off after Chang, reasonably certain we'd just lost our only lead in the case.


	8. Persuasion

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Thanks to WickedGame for pointing out that the link I put at the start of the last chapter didn't work. If you want to see the fanart, go to livejournal, user name t-shirt 1x2, and the entry "Trowa fanart."

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Eight: Persuasion

On the way to the hospital I got hold of the officers on the scene at the explosion and found out the media was swarming the place and that there was one man dead and three had been taken away by ambulance.

A small voice in the back of my head was chanting "please don't let it be Maxwell" even as Wufei slid the car to a halt in front of the hospital.

"At least the press hasn't followed them here yet," Chang muttered under his breath as we checked in at the main desk and found out the victims of the explosion had been brought to the emergency room.

"It will," I said flatly, more concerned with who was dead and who was alive than the media's interference at this point. Considering the day I'd had, I didn't dare get too optimistic. Twenty-five percent odds that Maxwell was dead just weren't good enough.

A uniformed cop was in the emergency room talking to Quatre Winner when Chang and I burst in.

"Yuy!" The lawyer actually smiled at me, looking infinitely relieved, though a bit harried.

"Tell me Maxwell wasn't in that car," I said bluntly.

_Yes, I've never been accused of having an excess of tact._

He shook his head. "We were walking towards it—Duo, his friend Trowa, and me." The blonde's face went a bit bleak then. "My assistant, Rashid, was in the car."

I tried not to let my relief over the news show so much that Winner didn't think I felt for his loss. I did. Really. But, shit! Maxwell was alive—or at least, not dead—yet.

Thank God for Chang. He gave Winner an appraising look. "Are you all right, counselor?"

"Yes, fine. Just a couple of bruises and scrapes. Duo and Trowa were in front of me."

Shit. Now I was picturing Maxwell and Barton comatose, with multiple fractures, burns, and who knew what other injuries. "How are they?" I asked.

Quatre gave a shake of his head. "Duo has a concussion, at least, and some cuts and scrapes. He got knocked down by the blast and hit with some debris. Trowa got knocked out completely, and I think he may have had some burns—the stuff that landed on him was on fire."

"But they'll both make it?"

He nodded. "I think so. They took them upstairs for CAT scans and x-rays." He looked rather impatiently at the officer in blue. "If this gentleman could finish taking information and let me go, I'd really like to find out the results."

I nodded to the officer. "Chang and I will take it from here. You don't tell the media a goddamned thing, understand? No names…no casualties…no nothing!"

"Yes sir," he said quickly, closing up his notepad and nodding politely to Winner before walking away.

"Shall we go see how your client's feeling?" I suggested.

Winner gave a slight smirk. "Still trying to procure his testimony?"

"Obviously someone doesn't want us to," I pointed out. "That fact alone tells me it's worth having. And the fact that someone tried to blow him up should convince your stubborn client it's worth giving."

"If that doesn't convince him, I _will_," promised the attorney.

We found out Maxwell and Barton were up on the sixth floor, so we headed for the elevators. And while we were walking, it seemed like the perfect time to find out the details of the explosion from Winner.

"You care to fill me in on exactly what happened at your office today?" I asked.

He sighed and nodded. "I had a meeting scheduled with Duo to discuss the case and his options. Since he left his motorcycle at Sanc yesterday when you two chased him, he got a ride from his friend Trowa Barton. They were right on time, parked in the lot behind the building, and came on in." He darted me a shrewd look from the aquamarine eyes. "You know I can't discuss the actual meeting with you—but I can tell you he was still dragging his feet about cooperating. It seemed like his friend might work on persuading him, so I gave up arguing and called Rashid on the intercom, asking him to bring the car around front for them." He paused and swallowed hard. "I've known Rashid since I was a kid, Yuy."

I nodded, feeling genuine sympathy for his loss. There was just no denying the depth of the grief reflected on his face. "I'm…sorry," I offered, knowing it was completely inadequate. But it was all I had.

We got on the elevator in silence, and then he gave a wan, fleeting smile. "Thanks."

"The bomb must have been on a timer," Chang spoke up quietly, his tone somber. "Starting the car probably started the countdown."

God! How close had Maxwell and Barton come to dying?

I drew a shaky breath. "Sounds right," I agreed.

Winner had pulled himself back together, and resumed his tale. "Duo, Trowa and I were walking out of the building—we were maybe thirty feet from the car when it—." He made a vague gesture with his hands, and then buried his face in them. "Oh Allah! Rashid—," he sobbed.

Chang patted him reassuringly on the back and I raised an eyebrow. My partner's never been the compassionate type. But something about the lawyer's overwhelming emotions seemed to get to him. I know it got to me.

"I'm sure—it was quick," Chang said soothingly. "He didn't suffer. And a man who's served your family so many years would surely have been willing to lay down his life to safeguard yours."

Where was he pulling this shit from? I'd never heard Chang wax so philosophical—at least not with a witness. And definitely not with a lawyer. He hated lawyers.

But then again, seeing the smooth, shrewd Quatre Winner reduced to tears was enough to reach the coldest heart.

"Don't worry," Wufei added. "We'll track down whoever did this and punish them."

"And if your client will help us, we'll prove Khushrenada was behind it, too," I nudged. Chang shot me a scowl, and I glared right back. "Look—I'm not just trying to use this to our advantage," I asserted. "We all know that no matter who planted the bomb, it was orchestrated by Khushrenada."

Winner had composed himself again, wiping his face with a handkerchief and stuffing it back into a pocket as the elevator doors were sliding open. He gave both my partner and me a somber look. "I agree with you," he admitted. "But in spite of my personal feelings on the issue, if Duo's afraid to testify, I can't make him."

"Not even for Rashid?" Chang asked in surprise.

Quatre shook his head. "Rashid is—dead. Forcing Duo into a dangerous situation won't bring him back."

"Du—Maxwell's already in a dangerous situation!" I pointed out. "Someone tried to kill him. Do you honestly think they won't try again?"

"What I think is irrelevant," shrugged the attorney. "As of this afternoon, Duo still thought he could disappear on his own and look out for himself. I don't know if that's changed."

"If it hasn't," Chang snorted wryly, "then he's more of an idiot than I thought."

"He's no idiot," I said, shaking my head. "He's shrewd and street smart. But he's also overconfident." I put a hand on Winner's shoulder. "Our Captain wanted us to charge him with murder, you know. If he disappears, she's liable to go for an arrest warrant and have him picked up and thrown in jail. Tell him that running will only make him look guilty to the cops—and it won't get Khushrenada off his back. He'll have both sides after his ass."

_Not that it wasn't an attractive ass._ It was. I'd noticed that much as he sashayed out of the interrogation room. Too bad his personality didn't match his very alluring body.

And how in Hell did my mind take off on that kind of tangent? With a growl and a slight shake of my head, I drew my attention back to the matter at hand—convincing the reluctant brat to testify.

Winner had already started talking to the nurse at the desk and found out what rooms Maxwell and Barton were in. He also got an update on their condition; Barton was still knocked out, but the scans came back clear, and Maxwell had been admitted with a concussion and a couple of cuts needing stitches. We headed directly for his room.

I had to admit, Maxwell looked a lot less obnoxious lying in a hospital bed with an i.v. hooked up to his tattooed arm. He seemed much younger, blankets pulled up to his chest and his braid trailing over one shoulder. And the pale face and neat line of stitches along his hairline merely made him appear all the more frail and delicate.

But he caught sight of Quatre the moment he stepped in, and tried to sit up. "Quatre! Thank God you're here! They won't tell me if Trowa's okay—nobody'll tell me a thing!"

"He's fine," Quatre said hastily. "Just—not awake yet."

"Fuck!" Maxwell leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. "This is all my fault!"

"Stop that right now," Quatre chided, walking over and picking up one of the limp hands from the coverlet. "You can't blame yourself for someone else's actions. And Trowa knew perfectly well that you were in danger. He _chose _to drive you to my office."

"And he got hurt because of it," Maxwell said miserably. "Because of _me_."

I saw the perfect opportunity to sway the braided man to my way of thinking. "He won't be the last to get hurt if you don't help us convict Khushrenada," I warned.

Maxwell's eyes flew open, and he fixed a scathing glare on Wufei and me, finally aware of our presence at the door. "You! Get the fuck out!"

I crossed my arms stubbornly. "Can't. It seems my partner and I now have _two _murders to investigate, as well as three attempted murders." I shook my head. "You attract trouble like flies on shit."

The indigo eyes narrowed at my uncomplimentary analogy. "I take care of myself."

"And a fine job you're doing," came my partner's completely sarcastic jibe.

"Bite me, asshole," snarled Maxwell.

I was a little relieved to hear the familiar litany of profanity—it reassured me that Maxwell was all right, in spite of appearances—and that my assessment of him as a punk and a thug wasn't off base.

He'd looked so vulnerable when we first walked in, that it threw me. But the hard professionalism now glimmering in the deep indigo eyes was clearly that of a seasoned street punk.

"Khushrenada had your lover killed, and now he's tried to do the same to you. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Yeah—it means his reach extends all the way into your fucked-up precinct," he muttered. "So don't sweet talk me with promises of safety you can't keep."

"I won't," I assured him, giving him a straightforward look. "If I say I can keep you alive to testify, I _can_. I _will_."

"Cooperating with us is your only hope," Wufei added.

"I don't help cops," came the stubborn response.

"Then what about helping find justice for your murdered lover?" Wufei pushed.

"Zechs is dead," Maxwell said flatly. "Are you gonna kill the ones who did it if I point them out?" His indigo eyes darted from Chang's face to mine, seeing our identical expressions. "Psh—yeah—didn't think so," he drawled snidely. "Then shut up about justice, and leave me alone. I'm not helping you."

"Then how about helping yourself?" I suggested. "You stay out there on your own, and whoever tried to shut you up today will have ample opportunity to finish the job."

"That's my problem," he shrugged, looking away. "'S not like it'd be a big loss to the world if they succeeded."

"Duo!" chided his attorney. "That's no way to talk. Your life is worth more than that."

"Yeah, to me," Maxwell replied evenly. "That's why I need to get out of here. I can find a hole to hide in—take care of myself—."

"But it's your _life _that's at stake!" Quatre protested.

"Tell them, Duo," came a voice from the door.

I spun, reaching a hand towards my gun, to see the exotic dancer from The Jungle leaning in the doorway, a bandage around his head, and another down his left arm.

"Trowa?" Maxwell sat up sharply, pushing Quatre's hands aside. "Tro' are you okay?"

"I'll live," shrugged the tall, auburn-haired man, sauntering closer. His deep green eyes fixed a concerned look on his friend, as he settled onto the edge of the bed. "I'd like to think you will, too. _Tell_ them, Duo. Tell them who killed Merquise."

"They're _cops_," Maxwell spat, as if the very word was offensive to him.

"Good ones," Quatre assured him, sparing us a glance out of the corner of his eyes. "I told you, Duo. Yuy and Chang are two of the best."

The indigo eyes shot me a sullen look, and then turned back to Quatre, a trace of uncertainty entering them. "What will happen if I do?" he asked quietly.

"They'll put you in protective custody until the trial…hide you, if necessary…and then get you into a federal witness relocation program."

"No Feds!" Duo said sharply, eyes widening in alarm. "I _told _you, Quat—Zechs said they had agents on the payroll. I'm not going anywhere near the FBI!"

"They're the only ones equipped to relocate you."

"I'll relocate myself. I just need enough money an' I can make myself disappear all on my own."

"Don't you think if you're going to all that trouble, you should at least make Khushrenada pay?" I asked coolly. "Wouldn't it make leaving your whole life behind more bearable if you knew he got what was coming to him first?"

Revenge is a powerful motivator for some people, and I was guessing Maxwell was one of those people. In fact, the set of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes seemed to confirm my theory.

And then Trowa took both of his hands, leaning in to brush a gentle kiss on one pale cheek. "I know how much you hate cops," he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "They never did shit about Solo and the others, and not one of 'em has ever done you a decent turn in your life. But if helping them helps you stay alive, it's worth it."

Maxwell looked up at him, so utterly lost and vulnerable for an instant that it took my breath away.

And Winner took the opening with a cunning born of years in the courtroom. "Duo—you should think about Trowa, too, and anyone else close to you. I know you'd never forgive yourself if they got hurt. I mean, _really _hurt."

Maxwell touched the bandage on Barton's arm. "Yeah, I won't," he sighed.

"Aw, forget about _me_," Barton chided. "I'm fine." He ran the back of one hand over Maxwell's cheek. "But maybe you should worry about the kids, hm?"

_Kids? What the fuck was he talking about?_

Apparently Maxwell knew, because his eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. "Oh fuck!" he breathed in horror. "Shit, Tro'. You're right."

"He's right about _what_?" Chang demanded sharply, breaking into the intimate moment. "You don't have children, Maxwell." His scowl deepened. "_Do_ you?"

Maxwell ignored the question, and turned a rather weary gaze to his attorney. "Okay, Quat. You win. I'll tell the cops what happened, and I'll be their witness in court. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that Khushrenada can't get to anyone else that I care about."

_Yes_!

Part of me was jumping for joy at our imminent victory over Khushrenada, even though I knew having an eyewitness account wasn't a guarantee. But another part was still wondering what the hell Barton and Maxwell had been talking about.

_What_ kids?


	9. Taking Statements

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Nine: Taking Statements

The moment Maxwell agreed to cooperate, I felt a rush of anticipation mixed with dread. What if, in spite of his obvious fear of Khushrenada, the person he'd seen kill Merquise couldn't be tied to the crime lord? I'd have a statement, which while it could convict a killer, might not destroy an empire.

But, no. Maxwell had mentioned Khushrenada's name so many times—shown such obvious reluctance to challenge the man—surely whatever he had to tell me would provide plenty of ammunition to use against the too-smooth executive.

Chang was still glaring suspiciously at Maxwell, obviously fixated on the mention of children; but I wanted a statement as quickly as possible, so I tugged at my partner's sleeve.

"Chang…you take Barton out into the waiting room and get his statement, while I take down what Maxwell has to say."

"Barton?"

"Yes—obviously Maxwell's told him what happened. I'll want to verify the accuracy of both accounts."

"Are you suggesting I'm making something up?" demanded the braided man, his face darkening with anger.

"No," I said hastily, seeing the same storm gathering in Winner's eyes. "I just want to make sure that what you told Barton matches closely with what you tell me—to make sure you don't forget to mention something to me that you might have mentioned to him. Plus, I'll know your memory of the events is still clear, which will be very important to the prosecuting attorney."

"All business," he muttered with a scowl. "You ever take a break, Yuy? Or do you fuckin' sleep with your badge on?"

Quatre let out a startled chuckle, and Barton grinned up at him. "So, counselor, you stayin' here with Duo while the cop grills him?"

"Of course," smirked Winner. "Unless you'd like benefit of counsel as well."

"Naw, I can handle one uptight detective just fine," replied the exotic dancer, leaning in to kiss Maxwell's cheek again before standing up. "Just tell him the way you told me, love. It'll be okay."

Maxwell nodded, putting a hand to his head an instant later. "Ah, fuckin' headache," he groaned.

Barton reached out to stroke the chestnut head. "Lie still then. You don't have to sit up to talk, y'know. And I'll be back in to check on you after you've made your statement."

"Thanks, Tro'."

Wufei followed Barton out of the room, and I pulled a note pad from my pocket, walking over to stand by the bed. "Okay, Maxwell, start talking."

At that point Winner stepped in with a coolly assessing look. "Before he does, do I have your assurance that if he says anything self-incriminating he won't be prosecuted for any criminal activities he might have participated in while associating with Merquise?"

Wow. That was a mouthful.

Maxwell saved me from having to reply. "Hey, Quat—it's okay. Zechs never dragged me into anything illegal. Honest."

Winner shot him a stern look. "Just let me do my job here, Duo."

"You have my word that the department won't press charges against Maxwell for anything associated with this case—as long as his testimony's worth it."

The lawyer gave me a very steady look. "It's worth it," he assured me. Then he nodded to Maxwell. "You can go ahead now."

A vaguely speculative look entered Maxwell's indigo eyes. "Uh—how far back d'you want me to go?"

"Tell me anything pertinent," I replied, not sure what he was asking.

Winner patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Start with when you got to his penthouse that night."

Maxwell sighed and then shrugged. "Fine. We got in the door and headed straight for the bed."

Shit. _Now _I knew what he'd meant. "You don't have to describe every minute of your evening!" I said quickly.

He gave me a perfectly wicked smirk. "Y'might like it if I did."

"No. No I wouldn't," I assured him.

Quatre was chuckling again, despite the gravity of the situation.

"This isn't funny, counselor."

He shook his head. "Certainly not—but your reactions are mildly amusing."

"Only to you," I said sourly. Then I turned my attention back to Maxwell. "Just skip to where the killer showed up. Please."

He shrugged. "If you say so." He half-closed his eyes, and from the way his jaw tightened, I could tell he was visualizing the unpleasant events. "We were asleep, more or less, when the intercom buzzed. Zechs answered, and let the caller in…told me to keep the bed warm and threw on a robe to go to the door." He frowned slightly. "I decided to have a cigarette while I was waiting, and when I got up to get my lighter, I noticed it sounded like Zechs and whoever had come to the door were arguing."

"Were you able to overhear any of it?" I asked carefully, hating to interrupt the flow of the story, but also knowing any detail might be important.

"Yeah—some guy was saying that Zechs had betrayed him—that he'd been seen meeting with someone from the police department." Maxwell snorted wryly. "As if—!" He shook his head. "Anyway, Zechs denied it—said he didn't know what they were talking about—that he'd never betray Oz. The other man laughed at him—." His voice trailed off momentarily, and he looked a bit sick. "He said there was no use trying to lie about it—that he knew about Zechs' private bank accounts, and that he'd been funneling money into them. He said it was a payoff." Maxwell looked up at Quatre. "That wasn't true!" he asserted. "Zechs had talked about putting money away so that some day he could retire—get away from that life. But I know he didn't sell out to the cops!"

"Did you see who was there making the accusations?" I asked, drawing his attention back to me—back to the testimony.

"Yeah—eventually," Maxwell shrugged. "First, I got dressed—threw on my pants and boots and a shirt, since it sounded like Zechs might need help. But as I was grabbing my knives and about to go confront them, I caught a glimpse through the back of the door." He swallowed hard, his face going bleak. "Zechs was on his knees in front of Khushrenada, with two goons hanging onto his arms, and Une holding a gun to his head. I—waited a second, trying to figure out how I was gonna take out Otto and Trant without giving that bitch time to shoot."

"So Khushrenada was there in person?" I asked, almost breathless with excitement.

"He was the one saying Zechs had sold him out."

"And did he say anything else?" I was hoping to hear that Khushrenada told Une to pull the trigger. We'd have them both—one for murder, and one for murder and conspiracy.

Maxwell frowned thoughtfully. "I lost a minute or two rummaging through Zechs' dresser looking for a gun—." He shook his head. "If he'd just kept a gun in there, I might've had a chance—. But there was none, and I decided to just wing it with knives and hope that my being there would put a damper on their little party." He swallowed hard, and I could tell it was becoming more difficult as he went. "Before I could make a move, Une asked Treize if she could 'finish the traitor.'"

"So you actually _heard_ Khushrenada give her the go ahead?"

"Give her—?" He shook his head, laughing bitterly. "Give her permission? He took the fucking gun out of her hand and did it himself!"

_Holy shit._

My jaw dropped, and it was several seconds before I recovered my voice. "Could you repeat that?" I asked carefully.

Maxwell fixed a burning gaze on my face, his expression darkening. "What didn't you understand, Yuy? Treize Khushrenada came to Zechs' penthouse in the middle of the fucking night and had Trant and Otto hold him still so he could put a bullet right between his eyes." He turned his face away, his voice going hoarse with emotion. "Is that enough? Or do you want me to explain how it fuckin' felt having the guy I loved get his brains blown out—watching them drop him on the floor like so much meat? Oh fuck, Quatre! I can't _do _this!" He let Winner wrap his arms around him and pull him into a hug, whispering reassurances, and glaring sternly up at me.

"Is that enough of a statement, detective?" asked the attorney coldly.

"I—yeah—for now," I managed, still in shock from both the revelation that Khushrenada had committed the murder in person and from seeing the show of emotion from the tough street kid. "I—I'll just give you two a minute," I stammered out nervously. "I have to run this by Chang." I made the fastest exit in history, uncomfortable with the surfeit of grief the two men were sharing.

* * *

Chang and Barton were seated in the waiting area, both bent over my partner's notes, and the former scribbling away.

"Jesus, Barton! You should have told us the truth that night at the club!" I snarled, shaken to the core.

He looked up in surprise, green eyes wide. "It wasn't for me to decide that," he said flatly.

"You knew how much danger he'd be in!"

And why the hell did it make me so angry? Somehow it felt to me like both Barton and Winner had done Maxwell a disservice by allowing him to remain silent as long as he had. His survival was a fluke—nothing more—and I had the overwhelming urge to drag him out of that hospital right then and there and get him hidden before Khushrenada's assassins got wind of the fact that the bomb had missed its intended target.

Chang gave me a puzzled look. "How—what exactly did Maxwell tell you?" he asked.

"I take it you haven't gotten very far," I said snidely. "Tell him, Barton. Tell him what Maxwell told you five nights ago when he showed up at your apartment."

The exotic dancer shrugged, running a hand through his bangs. "He saw Khushrenada kill Merquise."

I got perverse satisfaction from watching my partner's face pale and his jaw go slack.

"Yes," I snapped out coolly. "You heard right, Chang."

"We—we've got to—." Chang shook his head. "Goddamn it, Yuy! There's not a rock big enough to hide Maxwell under."

"No shit."

"How will we do it?"

I shook my head. "Hell if I know. First, we've got to talk to the Captain—get her to assign a round-the-clock watch on his room."

"The room? We should have the whole _wing_ sealed off!"

"And paint a banner saying 'Here's Duo Maxwell?'" I sneered. "I don't think so."

"Is he okay?" Barton asked suddenly. We both looked at him, and he gave us a frown. "Look, detective, I know you don't give a rat's ass about him—but considering the shape Duo was in the night he saw the murder—and you just made him relive it again—." He finally just shook his head and stood up, pushing past me and heading into the room to check on his former fuck-buddy personally.

I ran a shaking hand down my face. "I didn't expect this," I confessed. "I thought he'd just tell me Une did it, or one of Khushrenada's other thugs did it. Hell, I got excited when he said Khushrenada was there in person. But that he'd dirty his own hands—?"

"That does seem unlike a man of Khushrenada's stature," my partner noted. "Are you sure Maxwell's account is—reliable?"

I nodded firmly. "I am. Maxwell heard Khushrenada accuse Merquise of betraying him—selling him out to the authorities. From what I saw of the man, he'd take such a betrayal very personally."

Wufei nodded his understanding. "Treize Khushrenada struck me as a man who was not afraid of confrontation. I believe he would deal with a traitor face to face, as a matter of honor."

"Honor?" I snorted. "Khushrenada?"

"Well, his _own_ brand of honor," my partner conceded. "He'd want to set an example—to make sure no one ever considered following in Merquise's footsteps."

"_That _I can believe." I was beginning to regain my equilibrium. "At any rate, we're going to have to move fast on this. If we don't have Maxwell out of this hospital by morning and on his way to a safe house, we may as well give it all up. Mueller said the price on his head was a hundred grand; with the depth of Khushrenada's pockets, I guarantee that's only the low bid. He'd pay ten times that if he had to."

* * *

When we walked back into the hospital room, Barton had taken Winner's place at Maxwell's side, and had his good arm wrapped around the man's shoulders, rubbing soothingly at his back.

"You should never have let him walk out of the police station the other day," Chang blurted to Winner.

"He's a grown man, detective," came the calm reply. "As his attorney, all I could do was offer advice."

"—and nearly let him get killed!" I accused.

"As if _you _give a shit," Maxwell spoke up, glaring at me with a return of spirit.

"Well, I do _now_," I snarled back.

The indigo eyes narrowed. "Fuck you!" he growled, turning his frustrated scowl to Winner. "I fuckin' _told _you there was no point in helping the cops! I don't want to _do _this, Quatre!"

The blonde lawyer shot me a deadly glance before placing his hands soothingly on his angry client's shoulders. "Hush, Duo," he murmured gently. "It's necessary, and you know it."

"They don't care about keeping me alive, Quat! They just want their shot at Khushrenada!"

"And they won't get it without you," chided his lawyer gently. "They _have _to protect you or they won't have a case."

"He's right," I added helpfully, wanting to reassure Maxwell that testifying was in his own best interests, as well as ours. "Your testimony makes you worth your weight in gold to the department."

Maxwell glared balefully at me. "My _testimony_. Gee—thanks for _nothing_, asshole."

I glared back. "If you want me to say I'm worried about your pretty little _ass_ Maxwell, you're barkin' up the wrong tree." I gave him a frank, disinterested look. "All I want from you is your testimony against Khushrenada. And since you have to be alive to give it, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you that way. Understand?"

"Love you, too," he quipped mirthlessly.

"At least I'm being honest about it," I pointed out, looking to Winner for support.

"There _is _that," came the rather lackluster reply from the attorney. Winner fixed an astute aquamarine gaze on his client. "And if we're to be totally honest, it's not like you're testifying out of some sense of civic duty, Duo," he noted. "It's simple self-preservation."

No shit. I knew damned well the only thing motivating Maxwell was survival. "Look, Chang and I have to go see the Captain and fill her in on this," I told Winner. "I'll have a couple of uniforms stationed at the door until we can make plans to get your client out of here and safely hidden away."

"Whoa! Wait—hold on a sec!" Maxwell demanded. "Quat—where am I gonna have to go?"

"Relax—it'll all be worked out," Quatre assured him. "Yuy? Mind if I come along to speak for my client?"

Just what we needed—an attorney thrown in the mix!

"I don't suppose I can stop you," I shrugged.

He grinned slyly. "Not really—seeing as my client is incapacitated at the moment." He gave Maxwell a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, okay?"

The braided man nodded with surprising meekness, and it suddenly dawned on me how exhausted he looked.

"I'm gonna go back to my room and catch a nap, too," Barton told his former dance partner. "Before the nurses find out I snuck out. You okay by yourself?"

Maxwell gave a derisive snort. "Me? C'mon, Tro'. I'm always okay."

Barton pulled away from Maxwell and followed the three of us out the door. "Hey, counselor—you really think they can protect him?" he asked once we were out of his friend's earshot.

Winner nodded. "I trust Detective Yuy," he said firmly.

"Yeah, well—it's not _your _life at stake, is it?" Barton asked rather snidely, turning to go to his room.

Quatre caught his arm. "Duo's my friend," he said sternly. "I care very much about his life."

Barton relaxed slightly, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Sorry, counselor—I've just been a nervous wreck since Duo showed up at my door the night of the murder, y'know?"

"I know—and I'm sure having your car blown up hasn't helped your nerves either," Winner said, his fingers gently sliding down Barton's arm as he let go. "And call me Quatre, okay?"

Well, shit—talk about a budding romance! I could see the warm glimmer of attraction in Winner's eyes—and damned if it wasn't reflected in the green ones looking back at him. I think the stripper might even have been blushing a bit.

"C'mon Winner!" I said brusquely, breaking up their awkward little moment. "My boss is going to want to hear about this."

The lawyer tore himself away from the good-looking dancer and we headed down the hall side by side behind Chang.

* * *

We were waiting for the elevator when I remembered I hadn't asked Maxwell about the kids. I sent Chang on ahead to call for a couple of uniformed officers to come stand watch, telling him I'd forgotten a few questions; and amazingly Winner didn't insist on accompanying me back to Maxwell's room. I think he wanted to be in on the procurement of security for his client.

Maxwell was lying there staring at the window opposite his bed, a distant, distracted look on his face as I entered. But he heard my light footstep and spoke without looking at me. "Forget something, detective? Want another pound of flesh?"

His choice of words startled me into pausing halfway across the floor. "Just—I need you to explain about the kids, Maxwell. Whose kids are they? Yours?"

"That's none of your business," he growled.

"It is if I'm putting you in witness relocation just so you can duck out on child support payments."

He looked at me with utter disbelief on his face. "Right, Yuy," he snarled nastily. "I watched Zechs get fuckin' killed just so I could run out on a couple of rug rats." He shook his head. "You're a goddamned idiot."

"Just tell me about the kids," I pressed, determined to get at the truth.

"I'm fuckin' gay, you asshole," he pointed out. "That kind of reduces the likelihood of my fathering any kids."

"You said a lot of guys shared your bed—girls, too—remember? During interrogation." Had he thought I wasn't paying attention?

"I was yanking your chain."

I didn't doubt that for a second. Baiting cops seemed to be second nature to him. "So whose kids was Barton talking about?"

"He was talking about a fucking orphanage, okay?" Maxwell blurted in frustration. "The kids aren't mine—but I help out there once in a while." He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me. "Satisfied?"

I blinked, trying to reconcile the image of Maxwell volunteering at an orphanage with the hard-edged punk in the hospital bed. It just didn't work. "Yeah," I finally sighed. "If Winner will vouch for you on that, I'll take your word for it."

"Fuck you," he muttered sullenly. "Y'take my word that Khushrenada killed Zechs, but you think I'd lie about kids?"

"I don't know what you'd lie about," I admitted.

"And you don't care—so long as it hands you Khushrenada's ass on a silver platter," he retorted.

He had a point there, too, and I almost admitted it out loud. But no matter how badly I wanted Khushrenada, I wouldn't suborn perjury. "I do care," I said flatly. "Lies won't fool a jury. It'll be hard enough to sell them the truth."

"Yeah—if you're any indication, it'll be damn near impossible." He looked away again, and breathed a deep, weary sigh. "Y'mind letting me get some sleep? I've got a killer headache, detective."

"Want me to have the desk nurse bring you something for it?" I asked out of reflex, nearly slapping myself on the forehead at the show of concern.

"She won't bring what I need," he muttered. "Besides, once you leave, I expect the pain to subside."

"I give you a headache?" I asked wryly.

"I meant the pain in my ass," he said with a perfectly straight face, closing his eyes and settling deeper into his pillow.

Fucking punk. Here I was about to make arrangements that would keep him alive and protected, and all he had was attitude.

Attitude like that might actually be enough to get him through what I knew was going to be a long ordeal of hiding out, followed by grueling testimony at a very high-profile trial. But I vaguely pitied whoever got stuck on protection detail over the stubborn man.


	10. Making Plans

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Ten: Making Plans

Chang had called ahead to make sure Captain Po didn't go home for the day. But I hadn't counted on Relena hanging around.

Sure enough, she was at her desk when we approached our boss' private lair with Quatre Winner in tow. "Heero! How did it go at the hospital?" she asked, obviously having picked up the office gossip about the explosion and our mad dash to Sisters of Mercy.

"Fine," I said shortly. "Captain Po is expecting us."

My partner tapped on Po's door and reached for the knob, but Relena caught me by the arm, making me lag behind the others. "That man who came to see you—Mueller? I loaned him cab fare after you left. He said he'd come all the way from downtown to see you."

I sighed deeply. "Relena, he's a pawn broker. And an information broker."

She looked blankly at me.

"A snitch," I clarified. "He brought me outdated information and tried to squeeze money out of me for it."

"Oh."

I shook my head. "How much did you give him?"

"Fifty."

Nearly groaning aloud, I pulled out my wallet and counted the money, then shoved it into her hand. "Next time just tell him to file a request with the desk clerk to have a check sent."

She blinked her wide blue eyes at me. "Do they do that?"

"No."

I turned on my heel and followed Chang and Winner into the office, pointedly closing the door before Relena could invite herself in. Not that I didn't trust her, more or less—but as naïve as she was, I didn't want her to have information someone could trick her into revealing.

She'd only been working for the department a few months, since she turned eighteen, and she just didn't seem to understand how deceitful people could be.

Captain Po gave Winner a narrow look as we approached her desk. "And why are you here, counselor?"

"Several reasons," he said smoothly. "For starters, once your detectives explain what my client knows about the Merquise case, I'll need your promise of immunity for him. And then, when you get to discussing where he'll be hidden and protected, I want to offer the use of some family property."

She raised an eyebrow, a faintly skeptical smile playing about her lips. "Protecting your client's best interests, eh? You really seem to think you've got something," she scoffed. "But I'm still waiting to hear why we shouldn't arrest him and charge him with the murder."

"Aside from the fact that he didn't do it," Winner riposted, "there's also the fact that he saw who did." He smiled coolly. "And I'm willing to wager a year's salary that it's someone you'd much rather put away than my hard-working young client."

"Don't take that bet," I cautioned my Captain. "He'll win, hands down."

Her sharp gaze settled on me. "So—you agree that Maxwell can identify the killer and is credible enough to convince a jury?"

Chang made a slight gurgling noise that he covered by coughing.

"If forensics can give us a little physical evidence to back up his version of events, I think Maxwell could be a reasonably credible witness," I said rather vaguely. If we cleaned him up and put a suit and tie on him, I honestly believed he might be able to pull off a semblance of decency. I mean, he was presentable enough—good-looking if you wanted to get right down to it—but if every other word out of his mouth was "fuck" there was no way a jury was going to find him a sympathetic witness.

"And what would your 'reasonably credible' witness be able to tell a jury that might earn him a free pass on a murder charge?" asked Captain Po.

"He saw Treize Khushrenada pull the trigger," I said firmly, watching for the color to drain from her face.

It did—in record time, too. "Treize Khushrenada killed Zechs Merquise?" she breathed in disbelief. "Personally?"

"As I said—he pulled the trigger himself. It wasn't one of his hired guns or a contract killer; it was Khushrenada himself."

She shook her head, managing a wan smile. "Well, Yuy—and I thought you couldn't shock me."

_Right. Wonder what she'd say if I told her I was gay?_

"You should have seen _my _face when he told me," I said with a shrug.

She took a moment to compose herself, staring down at her desk and idly fiddling with the papers strewn across it. Then she looked up at Winner. "You really _were_ serious about protecting your client's best interests."

He gave a curt nod. "And his life," he added.

"That's our job," Captain Po said firmly. She looked at me with a slight frown. "We have to keep this quiet you know. The fewer people who know, the better."

_No shit._

"I'll need to get a second forensics team over to the penthouse first thing in the morning," she continued, beginning to scribble on a pad. "I'd like them to analyze that rug for bits of dirt or shoe prints that might back up Maxwell's claim. If Khushrenada was there, we should be able to find some trace evidence. He absolutely _had _to leave something behind."

"Yuy and I could supervise," Wufei offered. "Now that we know who the killer was, we know what kind of evidence should have been left behind."

_Heh…he wanted Khushrenada convicted as badly as I did…so much he could taste it._

"Did the coroner's office send up their report yet?" I asked her. "Maxwell said Khushrenada had three people with him; Une, Trant, and Otto. The two men held Merquise by the arms—there should be bruising somewhere—maybe the wrists or shoulders. That will verify Maxwell's account and give us grounds for a search warrant of Khushrenada's place."

"I'll look into it," Po said firmly, already beginning to make lengthier notes. She spared a glance at Winner. "I take it your client has agreed to police protection?"

"I wouldn't have let him do otherwise at this point," Quatre told her. "One attempt has already been made on his life—and I've no doubt there will be more. The sooner you get him hidden away, the better."

"I agree."

"Who do you have in mind for a protective detail?"

She bristled a bit at the lawyer's demanding tone, but concealed it well. "Generally, in a case of this magnitude, the Federal Bureau—."

"No!" he said firmly. "Duo specifically expressed concern for the integrity of the Bureau. Khushrenada has people on the inside."

"Unlikely," she scoffed.

"I don't care how unlikely it is!" he retorted sharply. "It you want my client's cooperation, I need some assurance that you'll take his fears seriously."

"What do you suggest I do?" Captain Po asked with a scowl.

"Can't _your _people protect Duo?" He gave her one of his most beguiling, persuasive smiles, damn him! "I trust the integrity of your department implicitly."

Have I ever mentioned I think all lawyers are manipulative bastards?

She considered his words for a moment, and obviously fell for the smoothly-delivered compliment. "I suppose we could handle it ourselves," she conceded. "We have jurisdiction over the Feds for Merquise's murder. But they've wanted Khushrenada for years for federal and international crimes. I'd think they'd be very motivated—if they could bring him down with a murder conviction, it would give them the chance to pick his empire apart piece by piece."

"I frankly don't give a shit about Khushrenada's empire," Winner responded. "All I care about is Duo's life. And if he's convinced your people can be trusted more than the Feds, I have to insist that we leave the Bureau out of it."

"Very well," she agreed, glancing at me. "Clark and Mason could do the job, don't you think?"

I grimaced slightly. "Clark has three kids and Mason just got married," I reminded her. "You might not want to put them on such a dangerous detail."

She eyed me warily. "You really think Khushrenada will believe we have enough to convict him? And _act_ on it?"

"He blew up Barton's car," Wufei pointed out with a shrug. "Or rather, someone did it for him; there's already a substantial reward being offered—quite discretely—for Maxwell's death."

"Every time anyone's gotten close to building a case against Khushrenada, all the witnesses changed their minds or disappeared," I added. "I'd put nothing past the man."

She sighed deeply. "Three-quarters of my officers are married. I'd have to mix and match teams to get two single—." She paused, turning an astute gaze to Chang and me.

I guess we should have seen _that _coming.

"Oh no!" Chang blurted. "You can't be thinking of Yuy and me!"

"We're the lead investigators!" I protested. "We need to stay here and put together the case against Khushrenada!"

"What better way to solidify the case than by keeping your star witness alive?" she countered.

Winner wore a slightly bemused expression. "I _did _tell my client that I believe Detectives Yuy and Chang are good, honest cops."

"That's beside the point!" my partner said hastily.

"No, it _is _the point," the attorney insisted. "I think my faith in you will help Duo to trust you, and he _needs _to trust his protectors."

"He _needs _to learn manners!" Wufei shot back. "Maxwell is uncouth, belligerent, foul-mouthed—."

_Oversexed, sensual, drool-worthy…ah shit. _

I didn't want to have to hide and protect Maxwell any more than my partner did, but for very different reasons. While I found the braided man's attitude annoying and his manners atrocious, it was his sinuous grace and blatant sexuality that really made me dread spending time in his company.

_Might as well just come right out and admit it—he was hot!_

Even Winner had noticed my gaze follow him out of the interrogation room. And while sheer hotness wasn't what I looked for in a lover, it was certainly enough to attract my attention. I did not want to be attracted to someone I despised as much as the punk who'd spit in my face the first time we met…and on my paperwork the second. And I seriously didn't want to spend a prolonged period of time in cramped quarters with him…let alone with him and Wufei.

"Objections aside, I think you two are the perfect choice," Captain Po stated. She shrugged slightly. "You're really the _only _choice."

"I find them acceptable," Winner piped up. "And I'm sure Duo will, too."

I snorted aloud at that. "Your client despises us," I pointed out.

The annoyingly pleasant lawyer held out a hand. "Hate…love…" He flipped it palm up. "Two sides of the same coin, detective."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chang demanded of the cryptic comment.

"Duo is very—passionate. And although he professes to hate cops, he just needs time to get to know you. Then he'll change his tune. And vice versa." He smiled encouragingly at Chang, and knowingly at me. "You'll learn to like him," he predicted.

"We don't _have _to like him to protect him," I growled.

"It would help. I mean, if you're going to put your life on the line for someone, shouldn't you feel that he's worth keeping alive?"

"I do," I said earnestly. "But only for his testimony."

The aquamarine eyes fixed me with a very piercing gaze, and I had a feeling the too-perceptive lawyer could read me like an open book. He seemed to take it for granted that I was attracted to his client—just because I'd snuck a look at his ass—once. Briefly.

_And, no, there's no need to point out that he was right._

"When you took down that testimony, you saw what it cost him, didn't you?" he pressed.

I looked away, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. And he donates time to an orphanage. So what? That doesn't make him a fucking saint, counselor. He's been a criminal all his life, stealing, lying, whoring…and now he's finally got a chance to give something back to the society he's thumbed his nose at." I glared steadily at the attorney. "I'd say he _owes _it—wouldn't you?"

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but my boss cut him off. "This debate ends here and now, gentlemen!" she snapped sternly. "I don't care what redeeming personal qualities your client has, counselor—or how offensive you find him, Yuy—the bottom line is, you and Chang will collect his ass from that hospital first thing in the morning and get him safely tucked away until the trial. Do I make myself clear?"

Winner and I were too busy glaring at one another to respond.

It was Chang who chose to speak up—sounding like a man accepting a death sentence. "Where would you like us to take him, Captain?"

That snapped Winner out of our staring match. "I'd like to offer some assistance in that matter, Captain Po." He was all suave charm again in an instant, and I wanted to throttle him. "I have some properties—a hunting lodge and a mountain retreat—as well as access to vacation homes belonging to my rather numerous sisters. The places are remote, but fully equipped with electricity, heat, water—all the amenities. Some have vehicles stored there for recreational use, and there's probably even some food in the freezer."

"You're volunteering your family's vacation homes?" Chang asked in a slightly horrified tone.

"We all use them," Winner explained. "If I simply call whichever sister I need to and ask for sole use for a few weeks, there'll be no problem. And there'll be no intrusion, either. We respect each other's privacy completely." He turned to the Captain, giving her that trademark smile. "It would save your department a substantial amount of money, especially if the first location gets compromised and they have to move."

"Yes, it would," she said slowly, looking a tad skeptical. "But there's the matter of liability—damage to the property if any disturbance occurs."

"I'll sign a waiver if you like," shrugged the lawyer.

"Why would you do so much for a mere client?" demanded Chang. "You're a public defender, Winner—not Maxwell's keeper."

"I told you before," came the patient reply. "He's _not _just a client. I wasn't lying to Trowa when I said I consider Duo a friend. And if you took the time to get to know him, you might too."

"I don't need to know him," sniffed my partner. "I know the _type_."

"Once again," Captain Po cut in smoothly, "we're getting off on a tangent." She fixed a discerning gaze on the lawyer. "I can tell you think highly of your client. And knowing your family's financial reputation, I feel confident no one could buy information from you as to Maxwell's whereabouts even if he _wasn't _your friend. So I'll accept your gracious offer, and we'll keep this completely between the four of us in this room, and Maxwell."

Quatre nodded in satisfaction, beaming at her. "I'll give you a list of locations—."

"No! Nothing in writing," she said quickly, proving the sharp mind that had earned her the position of Captain was as keen as ever. "I don't want anything lying around my office with that much information on it. Give the list to Yuy and Chang. All I want to know is the first location. From that point on, everything is in their hands."

I was impressed. She was taking this as seriously as I'd hoped. "What sort of contact schedule would you like?"

The next hour we spent hashing out details of the plan. We'd start by going to a hunting lodge owned by Winner, and hope we were hidden well enough to stay put while evidence was gathered and charges were filed against Khushrenada. If all went well, we'd simply have to get Maxwell to the courthouse to meet with the DA just prior to testifying.

But naturally we didn't expect everything to go well. We weren't that naïve—or optimistic. We set up a system by which I'd make periodic contact with the Captain to find out the progress of the investigation. Our primary means of communication would be via e-mail, since I had a state-of-the-art laptop and was proficient at its use. I'd nearly gotten arrested for hacking when I was much younger, and although I now stayed on the right side of the law, I knew all the tricks to cover my tracks and hide my location.

If we needed more immediate communication, or an actual dialogue, Chang or I could call in on a cell phone. By using a power booster, we could bounce the cell phone signal off a satellite instead of a tower, making detection much harder. We'd avoid the use of land lines altogether.

As far as security went, Winner informed us that each family property had a state of the art alarm system, and gave me the access codes along with the list of addresses. But what I didn't tell anyone, my boss included, was that I had my own security system.

My father had been an operative for an agency that conducted covert operations. Well, actually, he wasn't my real father—just my guardian—and the term "assassin" would probably be more accurate than "operative." At any rate, when he died, he left behind a treasure trove of surveillance equipment, and being a resourceful young man, I learned how to use it all. Most of the little trinkets—things like motion sensors, sound detectors, and pressure plates—fit into a single briefcase. If I separated them into two or three containers, I could stash spares in whatever I was carrying for luggage, ensuring that if I had to leave some behind in an emergency, I'd still have enough to serve their purpose.

We'd been at our work just over an hour when there was a tap at the door and Relena stuck her head in.

Captain Po raised a startled look to her secretary. "Oh Relena—are you still here? You didn't have to stay, dear."

_Way to kiss the Chief's ass, _I couldn't help thinking_. _Okay, so technically it was the Chief's _daughter's _ass, but that didn't make the notion any less repugnant.

Relena smiled. "I don't mind," she assured Po. "But did you want some food brought in, or something?"

"No—we're almost finished. You go ahead and leave for the night, and I'll close up the office when I go."

The young blonde woman nodded, and her eyes slid over to me. She flashed a rather timid smile, and I glared wearily back. I was in no mood to put up with flirting.

"Goodnight, Relena," Chang spoke up with a warmth in his voice he reserved for his favorite people, effectively diverting her attention from me. And thus distracted, she replied in kind, and left.

I'd have to thank him later.

It took us another hour to finish our plans, but finish them we did.

First thing in the morning, Chang was going to procure a rental car for the two-day drive it would take to get to Winner's hunting lodge upstate. He'd pick me up at my apartment and together we'd stop at an ATM to get traveling cash from a department account. That should put us at the hospital by mid-to-late morning to fetch Maxwell and hit the road.

Meanwhile, Winner and Barton would nip out early, accompanied by at least one officer, and make a quick trip to Maxwell's apartment to pack him some clothes and personal items. They'd bring those back to the hospital, which we had decided was the safest place to leave Maxwell for the moment. There were two armed guards at his door, and we'd squelched the media hype over the car bomb enough that Khushrenada couldn't possibly know who'd died, or more importantly, who hadn't.

When we finished our preparations, we were reasonably satisfied with the basic outline.

"You realize, of course, that all this is subject to change drastically, depending on whether you encounter trouble," Captain Po reminded us.

As if we needed reminding.

Encounter trouble? How could we _not_? We were taking a cop-hating hoodlum into hiding, out in the middle of nowhere. Even if Khushrenada's assassins never found us, I had a feeling it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

It was bad enough that Maxwell was brash, abrasive and confrontational; but my own partner could be equally difficult in his own way. He tended to be judgmental and stern, traits I had learned to accept and tolerate; I didn't think _either_ trait would sit well with our witness.

Knowing Chang and his penchant for lecturing and scolding, I had a feeling I'd find myself in the middle of a constant power struggle. And if the external one wasn't bad enough, I already faced an internal one.

Maxwell was very easy on the eyes, as I'd noticed before. If I'd met him in a nightclub, I'd have bought him a drink in a heartbeat. But I'd met him in a squad room, in handcuffs, and seen the anger and attitude in him before anything else. How could such a pretty package contain such an irritating personality? And why, knowing how incompatible we were, did I still flash back to the sight of him walking away with that swagger and sway of his hips?

Maybe if I was very lucky, I'd get shot protecting him and get a hero's funeral. Right at the moment, that looked like the most painless way out.

"And boys," Captain Po was saying, concluding a little pep talk I'd been tuning out. "Remember that you are professionals. Keep your personal feelings in check and try to be civil to Maxwell, hm? I know you aren't looking forward to this assignment, but you truly are the best qualified."

_Well weren't we just flattered as hell?_


	11. Road Trip

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Eleven: Road Trip

Chang and I arrived at the hospital right on schedule, the rental car loaded with our luggage, my surveillance equipment, and a shitload of camping gear and survival rations, in case we ended up stranded somewhere remote. Considering how far Winner's properties were off the beaten path, it was a reasonable possibility, and we needed to be prepared for anything.

Mostly we needed to get Maxwell out of that very public, very exposed hospital and someplace we could keep a better watch on him. Fast.

I think it was the urgency of my stride that made the two uniformed officers at the door straighten and look uneasy. But their nervousness made me stop in my tracks and eye them suspiciously.

I knew Taylor and Chase reasonably well, and yet in that instant I wondered if they were on Khushrenada's payroll and if Maxwell was already dead. "Is there a problem, Taylor?" I asked curtly, frowning at him.

"Just—no, detective. But no one gave orders about visitors, so when she showed up—."

"_She?_" I demanded, an image of Une flashing through my mind. I shoved Chase bodily out of the way and stalked into Maxwell's room, one hand on my gun.

Maxwell was up and dressed to go…or, well, more or less dressed. The tight black tee shirt and snug jeans probably wouldn't qualify as clothing by Chang's standards. And even I had to admit they didn't leave much to the imagination.

But then, considering his previous "occupation," I supposed we should be glad he'd worn _that _much.

He was sitting on the bed, talking to a girl with short, dark hair streaked with blue along one side, as Chang and I crossed the room.

She looked up and her expression turned to a grimace at our arrival. "Hey, Duo—looks like the cops want another piece of you."

"Who the hell is she?" I demanded of Maxwell, noting the immediate stiffening of his back and the defiant gleam that entered the indigo eyes.

"A friend," he said in a tone that dared me to object.

I did anyway. "A friend from where?"

"None of your business—."

Ignoring Maxwell's angry snarl, I fixed a daunting glare on the petite woman. "I want your name. I want to see some i.d. And I want to know how you know Maxwell and what the hell you're doing here."

Her mouth dropped open and she looked to Maxwell for support.

He stood up, facing me squarely. "You have no right—."

"I have all the right in the world!" I retorted. "And unless she produces identification and explains why she's here, I can have her arrested and taken downtown for some answers."

Chang made as if to head for the door to call in the uniforms, but the girl quickly grabbed her purse and whipped out her license. "I'm Hilde Schbeiker," she said with a lot less attitude than Maxwell. "I work at Sanc, and I'm Duo's neighbor. When Trowa and that guy Quatre came to the apartment building this morning, I asked about Duo."

My jaw dropped a bit. "They _told _you where he was?" I couldn't believe Winner had been so fucking _stupid_.

"No—just that they needed to get him some stuff," she said hastily.

"Look, Yuy," Maxwell snapped, stepping in between us. "She lives next door to me, and when Trowa showed up without me this morning, she got worried and tracked me down, okay? Tro' didn't blow my cover, and neither did Winner." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. "Hilde won't either."

"How much have you told her, Maxwell?" I demanded.

"Nothing!" came the angry response. "For fuck's sake, Yuy. I'm not _stupid_."

"From where I'm standing you are," Chang interjected, crossing his arms over his chest.

The girl was looking warily at Maxwell now, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are they talking about, Duo? How much trouble are you in?"

He turned to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'm not in trouble, Hil. I just—you know they're investigating Zechs—and since I knew him best, they need some information from me, okay?"

She looked over his shoulder at me, wincing when I scowled deeply. "They don't think _you _killed him, do they?"

"No—even the cops aren't _that _stupid," he teased, glancing back at me with a malicious gleam in his eyes.

Hilde pulled back, looking up at him with worry in her dark eyes. "Do they think the person who killed Zechs is trying to kill you, too? Is that what the car bomb was about yesterday?"

The girl didn't realize she'd hit the nail on the head.

I had to give him credit. Maxwell laughed easily, as if he hadn't a care in the world—and for all I knew, he didn't. Maybe he _was _stupid enough to not be scared—but then, I know I saw fear in his eyes whenever Khushrenada's name was mentioned.

"It's nothing like that, Hil," he said soothingly. "But I do need to lay low for awhile. And I don't want you to worry or anything."

"How can I not?" she asked, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck in a fond hug.

He hugged her back, and then pointed her towards the door. "Y'better go now—before Detective Death Glare and his partner—the one with the stick up his ass—decide to drag you downtown."

She chuckled a little, giving both Chang and me a sidelong look, and then obeyed, walking rather quickly out the door.

Maxwell rolled his eyes and went over to the window, looking out across the hospital grounds. "What are you two doing here, anyway?" he grumbled.

"Does the word 'sniper' mean nothing to you?" Wufei demanded scornfully, striding over and yanking the curtain closed right in front of our protected witness.

The braided man turned sharply, eyes flashing. "Fuck, detectives, y'think Khushrenada even knows I'm still alive, let alone what room and what hospital I'm in? And that he'd have someone watching just in case I walked over to the window?"

"In a word—yes." Wufei turned to face Maxwell, crossing his arms. "And you'd better start thinking the same thing if you want to stay alive."

Maxwell waved a hand dismissively, pushing past my partner and walking over to the bed. He sat down hard, with a huff of frustration. "I'll be glad to see the last of you two," he muttered. "Are you taking me to my official babysitters, or what?"

"Taking you—?" Wufei echoed, a sort of evil gleam entering the dark eyes. "Maxwell, we _are _your 'official babysitters,' as you so eloquently put it."

"_What_?" Alarmed indigo eyes darted to my face, and I swear, Maxwell went pale. "What do you mean, _you _are?"

"We drew the short straw," I said with a shrug. "Apparently all our pals in the department had more to live for than Chang and I did."

"No fuckin' way am I goin' anywhere with you two!" he snarled flatly.

I was starting to reach for my handcuffs when Winner came striding in. "You most certainly are!" he told his stubborn client, tossing a backpack onto the mattress beside him. "I agreed to it when it became obvious they were the best suited for the job."

"Suited for it?" Maxwell shook his head. "No, Quat. No way in Hell! I'm not going into hiding with these uptight assholes."

"You think anyone else on the force would be less uptight?" I demanded. "This isn't a game, Maxwell. It's a serious mission to keep you alive and out of sight until Khushrenada's trial."

"See what I mean?" he said to Quatre. "D'you hear him? A _mission_? Keeping me alive is a fucking _mission_?"

"Actually, it is," his lawyer said gently, but with steel in his voice. "And it's one I believe Yuy and Chang are the most capable of completing." He turned his head as Barton came walking in, carrying two stuffed duffel bags. "Trowa, could you please explain to Duo what we discussed on the way over to his apartment?"

Barton set the luggage on the bed, turning a patient look to his former lover. "The way we figure it, Duo, these two were resourceful enough to track you down at Sanc. And it's pretty obvious they're dedicated to the job. If someone else took over the case now, they'd be a totally unknown quantity."

Maxwell had his arms crossed in front of himself, hands rubbing restlessly at his biceps, and his fingers tracing over that distinguishing Grim Reaper tattoo. I made a mental note to tell him to wear something that covered it out in public, so no one could use it to identify him while we were supposed to be in hiding.

"Dammit, Tro'," he said in a lower voice. "I'll go nuts with only those two for company. You know I will!"

Barton took him by both arms, looking down into his eyes. "You'll be fine, Duo. I know it'll be boring, and you might feel a little cooped-up. But the time will pass before you know it."

Frowning, Maxwell turned an appealing look to his lawyer. "Quat—."

Was he fucking _whining_?

"Jesus, Maxwell! Would you quit your whining?" I snapped, fed up with his childish reluctance to accept his fate. "Y'think Chang and I are happy to be stuck with _you_? But we're not crying about it!"

He pulled away from the dancer, eyes narrowing. "You're getting _paid _for it!" he pointed out.

"And it's lucky for you we take our jobs seriously," I retorted. "Otherwise I'd have told my boss to shove it when she suggested Chang and I do this."

"She didn't _suggest_," Quatre said with a small smirk. "She ordered you. Now, how about cutting my client a little slack, hm? His lover was murdered right in front of him and his best friend's car was blown up—along with a man who's served my family for decades! I think, perhaps, you two detectives could moderate your attitudes a bit and try to understand how hard this has all been for Duo."

I opened my mouth to scoff, and just as quickly shut it, recalling Captain Po's parting orders for Chang and me to behave ourselves. My gaze sought out the braided man, who still had his arms crossed defiantly, and I couldn't help noticing the small white patch of the bandage at his hair line, marking how close he'd come to dying already.

"I can assure you, Mister Winner," Chang spoke up coolly, "that my partner and I are professionals. Regardless of our personal opinions of his lifestyle, we'll do what's best for your client."

_Even if he doesn't particularly like it, I thought wryly._

"_But_!" Wufei added icily. "I'd like to remind your client we require his cooperation. Should there _be_ an attempt on his life, he'll need to trust us, and obey us without question."

Maxwell lifted his chin in a gesture of disdain. "Don't worry about how I'll react under pressure, Chang. That's when I'm at my best."

I couldn't argue _that_. When I'd chased him for several city blocks, he'd never once lost his head. If Chang hadn't cut him off in the car, I had no doubt he'd eventually have evaded me.

"Fine then," I cut in curtly. "Can we get this show on the road before Khushrenada has any _more _time to round up willing assassins to send after us?"

Maxwell gave Winner a last pleading look and then sighed, walking up to him and shaking his hand. "Thanks, Quat, for taking me on again."

That said, Maxwell walked over to the bed and picked up his backpack. He turned to face Barton, reaching into the pocket of his too-tight jeans and pulling out a set of keys. "Here, Tro'. My bike's still at Sanc, and since you're without a car, you might as well have it."

"Aw, Duo—no—."

"Seriously, man. I can't go back for it." He shoved the keys into Barton's hand. "Just take good care of it, okay? It's a sweet ride."

"Almost as sweet a ride as you are," crooned his partner suggestively, pulling him into a lingering hug and kiss.

I tapped a foot restlessly. "Sometime today?"

"Fine!" Maxwell blurted irritably, letting go of his friend and grabbing the two bags off the bed. "Where's the fuckin' car?" he asked in a surly growl, stalking towards the door.

Barton caught him before he walked out, pulling him into another hug, and whispering something in his ear. In response, Maxwell dropped his duffel bags and threw his arms around the other man, then drew back and kissed him lingeringly, before bending to pick up his luggage and continue on his way.

Chang threw me a weary look and set out after him, and I gave Winner a curt nod before following.

But Barton was still close to the door, and caught my arm in a surprisingly strong grip, leaning in close. "Don't you let anything happen to Duo," he warned in a low growl that might have sounded seductive if it weren't for the dangerous gleam in the forest green eyes. "Keep him close. Keep him safe. Or they'll end up investigating another murder—yours."

I looked back at him steadily. "If anything happens to him, it will be over my dead body. Chang's too. As you said, we're dedicated to the job—and he's it."

I jerked my arm free and walked briskly out of the room, overtaking Maxwell and Chang where they stood waiting for the elevator.

It was a quiet ride down to the lower level of the parking garage, with Maxwell glaring stubbornly at the door, and Wufei looking anywhere but at the man we were assigned to protect. I could tell the two of them were going to be lots of fun together. _Not_.

When the doors opened, Chang took the lead, while Maxwell paused to set down a bag and pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "God—couldn't _wait _to get out of that hospital," he sighed, lighting one up. At my questioning look he added, "They don't let you smoke in a hospital."

Wufei had paused and turned around. "Well then it's good they got you used to doing without. There's no smoking in the car, either."

Maxwell looked up sharply at him. "Fuck that! I'm not riding in a car for days on end without a goddamned cigarette, Chang."

"It's a rental." Wufei gestured to the nondescript sedan he'd picked up that morning.

"It's a piece of shit!" Maxwell retorted. "And rental companies _expect _you to smoke in their cars. They have people to clean 'em afterwards, you ignorant ass."

I decided to step in before things got ugly. "Neither Chang nor I smoke, Maxwell. You can at least open a window a crack if you _must_."

The indigo eyes shot me a wary look. "Yeah, I can do that," he conceded, taking a long drag on his cigarette and politely blowing the smoke away from me.

Rather proud of the way I'd handled the situation, I picked up the bag he'd put down and headed for the car, snagging the keys out of Chang's hand as I passed. I opened up the back door and stuffed the bag in, then turned and gestured our witness to get in.

Maxwell was looking rather strangely at me as he tossed aside the remainder of his cigarette and lugged his other bag over. "Thanks," he muttered, shoving the bag on top of the first and crawling in after it, shuffling things around until he had room among his belongings as well as the stuff Chang and I had brought.

"Can't this stuff go in the trunk?" he asked rather plaintively as he maneuvered his long, slender legs between two overstuffed totes.

"Trunk's full," I told him. "Surveillance equipment, camping gear, and spare weapons."

His eyes widened. "Camping gear?"

"Just in case," I assured him, no more eager to end up roughing it to that degree than he was.

"In case _what_?" Maxwell asked.

"In case we end up in some crazy running gun battle with a hoard of hired assassins and get stranded out in the wilderness," my partner said snidely, walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.

I guessed I was driving.

But before I got into any vehicle with Duo Maxwell in it, I was going to inspect it for safety. I popped the hood and walked around to glance in the engine for possible explosive devices. Sure, we'd only been in the hospital for a matter of minutes—but you never knew.

Then I closed the hood, got down on the floor of the garage, and shone a flashlight into the undercarriage. Everything looked okay. When I got up and brushed myself off, I expected a snide comment from either Maxwell or Chang, but neither one seemed inclined to question my level of paranoia at that point.

In fact, I thought Maxwell looked a trifle pale when I climbed into the driver's seat. He was looking out the window, his gaze a little distant, and I wondered if he was reliving the explosion of his friend Barton's car.

When I started up the engine, all three of us jumped slightly; but by the time I maneuvered out of the parking space and headed out of the garage, things calmed down.

"Where are we going?" Maxwell asked as we pulled out into traffic.

"Upstate a ways," I said vaguely. "Winner has a hunting lodge in the mountains he's volunteered for our use."

Maxwell grimaced. "Why don't we just head for Vegas? We could get lost in Vegas, you know. Blend right in. Nobody'd notice us at all."

Chang just shook his head. "Are you kidding, Maxwell? The Vegas odds-makers are probably taking wagers on your longevity about now."

He had a point. If word was out that Khushrenada was being arrested for Merquise's murder and that the only witness had a price on his head, the bookies would make a killing on the wagers they could take in. Some people will bet on anything.

Maxwell digested the comment, and then a faint smirk settled on his lips. "Maybe I should call my bookie and see what kind of odds I can get."

"You'd better be joking," I said flatly.

"Well, duh," came the snide reply.

* * *

We hadn't been on the road half an hour when Maxwell's restlessness got the better of him. He slid forward in his seat, crossing his arms on the back of the front seat and leaning his chin on them.

"How 'bout some music?" he asked, reaching for the radio.

Chang slapped his hand away. "If we want noise, Maxwell, we're perfectly capable of turning the radio on ourselves."

"Capable, sure—what about _willing_?" grumbled our passenger. He glanced over at me and I studiously avoided noticing him. "Yuy—c'mon—the silence is fuckin' killing me! Aren't you two supposed to keep me alive?"

"No one ever died from silence," Wufei retorted.

"If I'm the first, it'll blow your whole case against Khushrenada," warned Maxwell.

"You won't be the first," growled my partner.

"But if I am—."

"Jesus Christ!" I blurted. "Let him have the fucking radio on if it shuts him up, Chang!"

Grinning like a maniac, Maxwell heaved himself half-over the seat and flicked on the radio, which promptly blasted out static at a very loud volume. He fiddled with the dial for several minutes, while I resisted the urge to rip the radio right out of the dashboard and fling it out the window. Along with _him_.

"Maxwell!" snapped my partner.

"Aw, keep your shorts on, Chang! I've almost got it." He managed to more or less tune in a scratchy station playing country music. "Aw—fuck."

"_Now _can we turn it off?" demanded Wufei.

"Hold up a sec!" Maxwell dove back into the rear seat and dug into his backpack, emerging with a fistful of cd's. "Here! _Real _music." He shuffled through them as if selecting the right one was the most important decision of his life. "Hm…Eagles, G 'n R, Tool, Slipknot, System of a Down…ah! Van Halen should do nicely." He sprawled over the seat again, shoving the disc into the player and pushing start.

As a loud tune with lots of electric guitar and percussion began, Maxwell settled his chin on his crossed arms again.

"This is intolerable, Yuy," my partner groused. "Are we to let him have his way the entire trip?"

Maxwell eyed him with a sidelong glance. "Well it _is_ my road trip, isn't it?" His indigo eyes narrowed. "You got a problem with Van Halen? I've got other stuff. How 'bout Def Leppard?"

"I'm sure you have absolutely nothing I'd find remotely tolerable," sneered Chang.

"An' I'm pretty sure you don't find a goddamned thing tolerable," Maxwell shot back. "Uptight asshole."

"You've said that before."

"It bears repeating."

"If you two don't shut the _fuck _up," I snarled, "we're turning around right now!"

Maxwell burst out laughing, falling backwards onto his seat. "Ah—I can't believe you actually _said _that!" he blurted between chuckles. "T-turn the c-car around?" He dissolved into hysterics again, and I took the opportunity to turn the volume on the radio down just a bit.

"Chang, I want you to stop bickering with him. Seriously."

My partner crossed his arms, turning to look out the window. But I heard him mutter about "street trash" and "junkies" under his breath.

God! At the rate we were going, this promised to be the longest assignment of my life.


	12. Road Trip Continued

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Huge thanks to Kaeru Shisho for her keen insights that made this chapter a million times better!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twelve: Road Trip Continued

Maxwell settled down for awhile after his outburst of laughter, and I thought he might have fallen asleep, which wasn't entirely surprising. He did, after all, work nights, and it was mid-morning—probably the time he was normally headed for bed. Add to that the fact that he probably hadn't really slept since the murder, what with the running, the arrest, and then a car bomb and a night in the hospital, and it was no wonder he was exhausted.

I let the stupid cd keep playing, merely inching the volume down until it was a background murmur. "We'll stop for lunch at the first likely place we find, once we get far enough out of the city," I told my partner.

"Acceptable."

He was being curt, and I could tell he was still peeved about the scolding I'd given him. For Christ's sake—how could a grown man be so—_pissy_?

The remaining hours of the morning passed in somewhat strained silence—but that was infinitely preferable to the sniping between my partner and our protected witness.

We left the city far behind, and were well up the highway before noon, and I began looking for a place to eat. But after passing up three places that looked like run-down truck stops, I concluded we wouldn't find much else out there.

It was nearly two o'clock by the time I gave up searching, and at the next sign for "good eats," I turned off the highway.

"You can't be serious," groaned Wufei.

"There aren't a lot of choices," I sighed. "When we get to Winner's cabin, we can grocery shop and get some decent food. But for now, I think this is all we're going to find."

I pulled into a pockmarked dirt lot beside a weathered building, bouncing wildly through the potholes and ruts to park the car near the door. I almost hoped they weren't open.

Chang had turned to look in the back seat. "How he slept through this piss poor excuse for a parking lot—." He shook his head. "Sleeping Beauty," he added snidely.

I followed his gaze and blinked in surprise. He wasn't kidding. Well, he was—but he had no idea how appropriate his words were.

Maxwell was curled up amid the luggage, his head pillowed on his jacket. Asleep, he lacked the hard edge, and he looked much younger and more innocent than he did when awake. One hand was tucked up under his head, and the other arm was curled around his backpack. That damnable braid trailed over one shoulder and draped around his waist, gleaming in the sunlight that shone in the car window. Damned if he didn't look even more enticing like this than he did in that picture on Noin's office wall.

With thick, dark lashes resting against pale cheeks, and wisps of hair covering the small bandage on his forehead, he looked—.

"Maxwell! Wake _up_!" Chang snapped, slapping the palm of his hand loudly against the vinyl seat.

Maxwell shot upright, a hand scrabbling at his arm for a wrist sheath that wasn't there. When realization dawned in the wild indigo eyes, he was pressed back against the seat, every muscle tense with panic.

"What the _fuck_?" he snapped, gasping to regain the breath that had been startled out of him.

Wufei laughed outright at our edgy witness. And I just shook my head, still stuck with the image of an alluring sleeping face in my memory. "Lunch," I said simply, grabbing the keys and getting out of the car.

It was cool and breezy at the roadside diner, and I pulled my jacket tighter as the back door opened and Maxwell stumbled out.

"Fuckin' psycho chink bastard…" he was muttering as he shivered and pulled his jacket on.

"Hide the braid," I cautioned, as he flipped the long, now slightly messy appendage over a shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "For chrissakes, Yuy, it's not like anyone around here is gonna call Khushrenada just 'cause a guy with a braid came in for lunch."

"Do you really want to take that chance?" I asked.

"I'd rather the rental doesn't end up like your friend Barton's car did," my partner added dryly. He eyed the braid as Maxwell grudgingly stuffed it under his jacket. "They'll make you cut it off when they relocate you anyway."

Maxwell spun to face both of us, eyes wide. "They can't do that!"

I wanted to strangle my partner. He'd clearly found most of Maxwell's triggers and was taking perverse pleasure in baiting him. "Relax, Maxwell. You never know what'll happen. You might not even need relocation if someone else comes forward to testify as well."

He gave me a skeptical look.

"If enough charges surface, Khushrenada could be convicted of other crimes that would carry just as many years of a sentence as one murder."

"Sure," came the snide reply. "I notice you guys have done a bang-up job of nailing him in the past." He cocked his head, putting a hand on one hip. "How many convictions? Oh, that's right—none!"

Well, _that _stung. Here I was trying to reassure the little punk that he might not have to lose the hair, and he went and got smart-alecky. I brushed past him, shaking my head, and stalked into the diner.

It was a typical "greasy spoon" joint, right down to the cracked linoleum floor and the chintz curtains in the windows. I half expected to be greeted by a middle-aged waitress with her hair piled up on top of her head and a pencil stuck behind one ear.

Instead, a very pretty, very young blonde girl smiled at us from behind the register. "Hey there!" She perked right up, straightening from leaning on one elbow. "How many in your party?"

"Three."

She picked up three menus, and came around the counter, and then her gaze slid past me to Maxwell, and her smile widened noticeably. "Welcome to Joe's Diner—I'm Rhonda."

I gave a curt nod, expecting her to show us to a table. But Maxwell had other ideas. "Rhonda?" he asked, his tone lacking the edge I was used to. "Pretty name. I used to work with a girl named Rhonda." He gave the girl a sort of wry smile. "I swear, if we used the line 'Help me Rhonda' one more time, she'd have killed us."

The girl dimpled at him, giving a little laugh. "It does get old fast. I've probably heard it a million times." She glanced at Chang, and then her attention slid right back to Maxwell. "You guys prefer a table or booth?"

"Aw, man—a booth would be great," sighed the braided man. "Been cooped up in the back seat of a car all morning—it'd be great to be able to stretch out my legs."

"A booth it is," she said firmly, leading the way across the room.

Maxwell walked past me while I paused to give Chang a puzzled glance. He was scowling deeply, shaking his head. "Why do they always notice the gay guys first?" he muttered rather peevishly.

I shook my head. If he knew that Relena had done the exact same thing, he'd absolutely go ballistic. I decided to keep that tidbit of information to myself.

"First Relena and now _this _one," Chang added in a growl.

I felt a wave of panic. How had he known about me? "Re-Relena?" I stammered, feigning innocence anyway.

"Yes," he said in clipped tones. "She hit on Tom in the mail room when she first came to work," he said disdainfully. "Tom the Twink?"

Oh…Tom.

I had a vague recollection of a strikingly handsome guy who'd brought up mail a time or two, and I can't say I blamed Relena for trying. At the moment, however, I was trying to pull myself back together enough to form a coherent reply.

I cleared my throat, swallowing to ease the pang of nausea that my momentary panic had brought on.

"It's just that he looks like the dangerous type," I said in an undertone, having regained my composure. "The jacket and the tight jeans make him look—," _hot, sexy, seductive, _"—like a thug. Girls like that."

"Even _nice _girls?" sighed my partner, his dark mood easing a bit.

I found myself smirking. "Especially nice girls."

It was pretty obvious our young waitress, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, was drawn to the naughty-boy image Maxwell exuded. The fact that he looked much younger than the twenty-one his file said he was, probably added to the appeal. And yet—even though he looked the part of a hoodlum, he'd been nothing but polite and charming to the girl.

I found myself wondering how come she got smiles and banter while all Chang and I warranted was sniping and sarcasm. Apparently Maxwell really _did _hate cops—and I vaguely wondered why—aside from the obvious. His distaste seemed to run much deeper than the average juvenile delinquent's.

"You said you've been in the car for awhile? I take it you boys aren't from around here," she was saying as Wufei and I caught up.

"Not even close," Maxwell told her. "We're from—."

"We're on vacation," I said flatly, shoving him into the seat ahead of me and sliding in next to him. I gave him a warning glare, and then looked to Wufei for support, as he sat across from me.

My partner gave the waitress a stern look and a nod of confirmation. "Yes, vacation," he echoed politely.

"Not much to do around here," she conceded, putting place settings in front of us and filling our water glasses.

"Which is why we're merely passing through," Wufei invented smoothly.

Maxwell started to take off his jacket, and I elbowed him firmly in the ribs. "It's kind of chilly in here," I cautioned. "You might want to keep that on."

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed, slouching in his seat and picking up the menu.

I exchanged a weary look with my partner; if we were going to have to constantly remind Maxwell he was under cover, it was going to be a long assignment indeed.

"Can I get you something to drink to start off with?"

Maxwell was all smiles again, looking up at her from under those wispy chestnut bangs. "Please tell me you serve liquor," he pleaded.

"Just beer and wine."

"Perfect!" His face lit up and he leaned across me to get a little closer to the girl. I resisted the urge to elbow him in the face for invading my personal space. "Is it just the run of the mill, or have you got some local brewery stuff?"

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I think Marty might keep some imported dark beer in the back. Want me to check for you?"

"Aw, I don't wanna put you to any trouble…"

"It's no trouble," she said warmly. "I'll be right back."

She scampered off, and Maxwell leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs under the table and pulling out his pack of cigarettes.

"You are not smoking during this meal!" Wufei snapped icily.

In the act of taking out a cigarette, Maxwell paused. "Well then I'll go outside to have it. Be right back." He started to sit up, and I put an arm across his chest to keep him in the booth.

"Not alone, you won't," I said firmly. "Wait until after we've eaten…when we go to leave."

"God, you guys are fucked up," Maxwell growled, stuffing the pack back into his pocket. He looked around the small diner, his expression softening from the scowl the minute he saw Rhonda on her way back.

She had three frosty bottles in her hands, and set them in a row on the table. "Any of these strike your fancy, Mister—?"

He chuckled. "Not 'Mister,' just D—."

"Max!" I said sharply, glaring daggers at him. _For Christ's sake, if he didn't shut up—! _I gave Rhonda an insincere smile. "He's Max, and we're, uh, Cho and Ryu."

She nodded, glancing at me, but her gaze went right back to Maxwell. "So? How 'bout it, Max?"

He grinned slyly, turning on the charm full force. "How 'bout _what_?"

A lovely blush went up her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered as she looked shyly down at the table. "Uh—the—um—beer?"

His chuckle was slightly husky. I don't know what effect it had on the pretty girl, but it sent a shiver down _my _spine. "This one's fine," he said, taking the middle bottle and unscrewing the cap, before raising it in a toast to Rhonda and taking a long swig. "Perfect," he said as he set it down on the table. "So—what've you got to eat in this place?"

"Specials today are home made chili, bean soup, and tuna melts."

"Splendid," Chang muttered under his breath.

My partner was a stickler for eating wholesome, nutritious meals, and I already knew that roadside diners weren't going to provide it. He needed to accept his fate and look forward to our arrival at Winner's cabin and a kitchen where we could make our own meals.

"I'm sure they've got chicken or fish," I told him, wanting to avoid a heavy, greasy meal myself. It wouldn't do for either of us to be sluggish while on a protective detail.

"Well, I dunno about the two health nuts," Maxwell said with a hint of disdain, still addressing his comments to the flirty waitress from Hell. "But I'll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries, if you've got 'em."

"Sure we do!"

"And a bowl of chili, if it's good," he added.

"It's the best!" she asserted, jotting it down on her pad.

Chang and I ordered iced tea and chicken sandwiches, hoping they weren't loaded with breading or sauce, and I made myself, and my stomach, a promise to shop for groceries the very minute we got to the safe house.

Once the girl had gone to place our orders, Wufei glared across the table. "What was _that _all about?" he demanded.

"What was _what_ all about?" asked our cagey witness, blinking innocently.

I didn't buy into the act; he knew full well what Chang was talking about.

"All that chit-chat with the waitress!" spat my partner. "You're supposed to be under cover, Maxwell—not out making new friends. Under-age friends at that!"

"Meaning?"

"I have one word for you, Maxwell," Chang said coolly. "Jailbait."

"An' I've got one for you—_gay_." Our witness glared across the booth. "Look it up, shithead, because it'll clue you in that I'm not interested in her that way."

"So you say," shrugged my partner. "But you sure as hell turned on the charm with her."

"I was just being _nice_!" came the snide reply. "Something you clearly know nothing about. Waitresses gotta work damn hard for a living—detective. They deserve a little respect."

"How would you know how hard they work?"

"Because I knew a bunch of them at The Jungle and Sanc Palace."

"Like your friend Hilde?" asked Wufei.

"Hilde's a stripper—not a waitress," Maxwell retorted. "Not that it's any of your business either way."

"She seemed pretty used to being in your arms," Wufei said archly. "Maybe you're bi instead of gay."

"And maybe _you're_ stupid," Maxwell retorted, tugging restlessly at the label on his beer bottle, and beginning to peel up a corner.

"I'm not stupid enough to hit on an under-age girl."

"Neither am I, dickhead. But it's a well-known fact the nicer you are to a waitress, the better the service." He took a swig of beer, and then waggled the fancy bottle between two fingers. "See?"

Chang subsided into muttering under his breath about foolish girls blinded by lust and too silly to realize they were hitting on gay guys, and Maxwell gazed out the window sipping his beer.

I studiously ignored them both, taking out a road map and studying the possible routes to Winner's cabin. I wanted to know every road, trail, or footpath in and out, as well as the lay of the land around it, the defensibility, and the nearest towns where we might find grocery stores or supplies we needed.

Rhonda came back a few minutes later with the tea that Chang and I had ordered, and she leaned on the booth opposite us, her sparkling gaze returning to Maxwell. "So where're you fellas from?"

God—why were there no other patrons to distract her? I wished we'd made it there closer to the lunch rush, so she'd be too busy to pry.

"Up north," Chang replied vaguely.

"Canada?" she asked with a puzzled look.

Maxwell laughed aloud, nearly choking on his beer, and I lowered the map and helpfully smacked the palm of my hand between his shoulder blades…hard.

"Oh look!" Wufei blurted in relief. "You've got some other customers." Her gaze shifted to the man and woman who'd just come in, and then back to Chang, who smiled insincerely. "We wouldn't want to keep you from your work."

She smiled in return. "Don't you worry. I'll be back soon."

"Up north?" I asked Chang in a livid whisper, after Rhonda had gone to greet the newcomers. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Maxwell was still chuckling and trying to muffle it with a napkin. "God—you two are more liable to kill me than Khush—."

"Quiet!" I hissed, elbowing him hard.

He winced, giving me a dirty look, and then put a hand to his side, rubbing it through the jacket.

"You need to learn to keep your mouth shut," Chang said in a chilly voice.

Maxwell glared at him. "Right. I'm not the idiot who came up with Canada."

"Neither am I. She drew that conclusion on her own."

"Because you said 'up north.' I got a news flash for ya. There's nothing much north of here except Canada."

I wasn't sure how much longer I could take their sniping, and I surreptitiously wrapped a fist in the cuff of Maxwell's jacket, twisting it hard enough to pinch his wrist and get his attention. "Enough!" I snarled quietly.

He looked down at my hand, jaw tightening in a near-wince, and then he leaned towards me. For a fleeting instant I thought the fool was going to try to kiss me, and I nearly panicked, wondering what Chang's reaction would be.

"You wanna hold hands?" he asked snidely.

I released him as if he were on fire. "No, Maxwell!" I growled. "I wanted to get your attention. When she gets back here with food, I expect you to shut up and eat so we can get back on the road. No more flirting. No more making conversation. Do you really want anyone here to be able to identify your picture when one of the hit men after the hundred grand tracks us this far?"

"What 'hundred grand'?" he asked with a frown.

Oh. Right. I guess we'd never explained to him just how badly Khushrenada wanted him dead. "Word on the street is that's how much is being offered for the hit on your life."

His jaw dropped. "No shit?"

I gazed steadily back. "No shit."

He shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Pocket change to a guy like Treize. But if he'd just offered me that much to keep my mouth shut, I might've been tempted."

"Well, that comes as no surprise," sneered Chang, shaking his head.

I gave him a warning look, but addressed my comments to Maxwell. "I guess we're lucky Khushrenada tried to kill you instead of bribe you."

"Yeah, you are," muttered Maxwell, scowling faintly. "You don't _know_ how much I hate cops."

Chang snorted aloud. "You've made it abundantly clear with the attitude and abuse you've heaped on us."

"Me? Attitude?" Maxwell scoffed. "Take a fuckin' look in the mirror, asshole, if you wanna see 'attitude'!"

"Would you both _shut up_?" I snarled, seeing Rhonda headed our way with our meals balanced on a tray.

She set out the meals with a flourish, leaning across me to reach Maxwell's place. "I got Marty to throw a few extra fries on the side," she told him warmly. "For my new favorite customer."

"Aw, thanks Rhonda," Maxwell replied with feeling. "What'd I do to deserve that?"

"You haven't tried the 'Help me Rhonda' line once," she countered cheekily, winking one big blue eye at him before she turned to go.

He smiled brilliantly, looking insufferably smug as he reached for the ketchup.

"Fucking hell!" Wufei hissed under his breath.

I was tempted to echo that sentiment, recalling Maxwell's words in interrogation. _"I got a thing for blue eyes, officer, not blonde hair." _It was hard to know whether to take him seriously or not at times—especially when he could turn the attitude on and off at will. "Lay off the flirting, Maxwell," I muttered in an undertone. "You don't want to be remembered, do you, when one of Khushrenada's hit men comes calling?"

"Wasn't flirting," he mumbled defensively, squeezing a puddle of ketchup onto the edge of his plate.

"Looked that way to me," I pointed out. "And I guarantee she could describe you right down to the last hair, if anyone asked."

"Can't help being memorable, now can I?" he preened, picking up his cheeseburger, and turning his attention to consuming the meal. It was a welcomed respite from his and Chang's bickering.

I made short work of my sandwich, wanting nothing more than to get out of that diner, away from the too-friendly waitress, and back on our way to the cabin.

Maxwell, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his time, savoring each bite with half-closed eyes, and alternating between his chili and the burger. And then I happened to notice that as he bit into the overstuffed bun, a little trickle of grease made its way down one corner of his mouth.

Without a trace of self-consciousness, Maxwell licked the drip, and then ran his tongue up the side of his hand to catch another drop. He slid me a sideways glance, smirking and looking a little sheepish. "Juicy burger," he said around a mouthful of his meal.

No shit. How did someone make eating a stupid cheeseburger look so damned erotic? I forcibly kept my eyes on my empty plate as I sipped at my tea.

Chang slid out of his side of the booth, his own plate nearly empty. "I'm going to use the rest room, Yuy. I'll be right back."

I nodded, surreptitiously allowing my gaze to drift sideways towards Maxwell after my partner left.

The braided man picked up a fry, dipped it in ketchup, and then _fucking sucked the ketchup off it._ Honestly, who the hell eats fries that way?

It was painfully fascinating to watch how he'd roll a fry in ketchup and then stick one end in his mouth, sucking off the red sauce before stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. I watched him go through half the pile like that, trying not to openly stare. But when he held up a fry, absently _licking _the ketchup off while staring out the window, I couldn't take any more.

"I'll go get the check!" I blurted hoarsely, starting to slide out of the booth.

"What about dessert?"

I looked at him blankly, and saw the sly gleam in the indigo eyes.

"I was thinking of something with lots of whipped cream," he said with a feral grin. "Since you seemed to enjoy watching me eat fries so much."

Oh—busted.

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, Maxwell." I managed to sound curt and business-like, despite the heat on my face.

"Just an eye?" he smirked.

I stood up quickly, feeling a rush of irritation. He'd been deliberately playing with his food, trying to evoke a reaction. And I'd be damned if I let him know he'd gotten one. "Save it for your fuck-buddy Barton. I told you before, Maxwell, I'm not interested in leftovers." I walked away before he could retort, going up to the register where Rhonda was busy writing down an order before tucking it onto the rack for the cook.

By the time I'd paid and returned to our table, Chang was there, finishing his tea while Maxwell mopped up the last of the ketchup with a spare fry.

"Ready to go?" I asked, tucking a tip under one of the water glasses.

Chang nodded immediately, and Maxwell slid out of the booth, standing and stretching languidly. "I gotta hit the john before we go," he said, heading in the direction we'd seen my partner take.

"I'll go with you," I said quickly, not wanting him to go anywhere unescorted.

He turned a snide look to me. "I think I can take a leak on my own, detective." His tone was icy; I guessed he was still pissed off about my "leftovers" comment.

"I'm sure you can," I replied. "But I'm coming with you anyway."

His eyes narrowed. "Y'gonna hold my dick for me while I piss?" he challenged sarcastically.

I simply shoved him in the direction of the rest rooms, and he started walking, the tautness of his shoulders conveying a world of emotion.

"I'll be in the car," Chang called, a trace of amusement in his voice. I think he was enjoying watching me on the receiving end of Maxwell's rudeness.

"You're driving!" I called in reply.

When we got to the bathroom, I went first, for two reasons. First, I didn't want Maxwell even thinking of wandering off while my back was turned. I figured if he needed to use the facility, he'd be unlikely to go anywhere. And second, I wanted to make sure there was no window for Maxwell to slip out of. Not that I thought he would—but knowing his animosity towards cops, I wouldn't put it past him to try to ditch us just to prove he could.

He followed my backwards glance towards the tiny, ceiling-level window as I exited the bathroom. "Thinking I'd make a run for it?" he asked perceptively.

"You've nowhere to run," I replied, leaning on the wall in the hallway and crossing my arms. "I'll wait here for you."

He brushed past me and went inside, muttering about "paranoid asshole cops."

When he emerged, we headed for the exit, but were intercepted by that damnably sociable waitress.

"Max! I thought I'd missed you," she said a bit breathlessly, scooting over to push one of those little styrofoam food containers into his hand. "I guessed you might like apple pie—and since you guys didn't stay for dessert, I thought I'd make it to go." She spared me a less gushing smile. "I put in enough for three."

Damn. She _was_ a sweet kid. And if I hadn't been trying to keep a low profile, and make Maxwell do the same, I'd have been tempted to stay for coffee and pie. Instead, I merely gave a polite nod. "Thank you."

Maxwell was a little more effusive. "Rhonda, you're about the best waitress I've ever had—and trust me, I've eaten out a _lot_."

Her face scrunched up in sympathy. "Bachelor, huh?"

Oh, God was she fishing!

"Um, I wrote my number on the bottom of the container," she said quietly to him, probably hoping I wouldn't hear—but I've always been cursed with keen ears.

Maxwell's smile faltered a little, and he leaned an elbow on the counter, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I'm really flattered," he said frankly. "But honestly, this is a one-way trip for me. I won't be back."

I was floored—not so much by his honesty, but by the tone in his voice. He didn't say it like he thought we'd travel another route back to the city, but like he never expected to come back at all. Did he think Khushrenada would succeed in having him killed? Or did he plan to slip away and leave us _all _behind?

The girl looked rather strangely at him, clearly having as much trouble interpreting his tone as I did. "Well…it was nice meeting you anyway," she told him, boldly grabbing one of his hands, and then standing on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Yeah, you too," he sighed, pushing off the counter and walking out the door without a backward glance.

When I got to the car, he'd already put the container of pie in the middle of the front seat and crawled into the back, curling up amid his nest of luggage, and pulling off his jacket to wrap around his shoulders like a blanket.

Chang raised an eyebrow as I got in, and I just shrugged and gestured him to get moving. We weren't even a full day on the road and already my nerves were shot to hell. Between Chang and Maxwell's bickering, Maxwell's dangerous behavior, and my guilty conscience it was no wonder.


	13. Ground Rules

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirteen: Ground Rules

I'd been staring broodingly out the window for at least an hour before Chang's voice broke the silence in the car.

"Too bad we can't just tranquilize him until the trial," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the man snoring quietly in the back seat.

"He _is _a lot less—difficult—this way," I admitted, deliberately not looking. I'd already seen Maxwell sleeping—looking young and vulnerable. I didn't need to see it again, especially now that I knew what a consummate actor he was. I couldn't help wondering which personality was the real Duo Maxwell. And I'd probably never know.

"It's hard to reconcile that—_punk_—with the fact that he volunteers at an orphanage."

"No shit."

Chang frowned a little as he looked out at the highway stretching before us. "Could he have been lying to you?"

"He preceded the confession with the word 'fuck,'" I said wryly.

My partner chuckled, and I felt myself relax fractionally. Maybe we'd get through this after all. "So he really _does_ help out at an orphanage?"

"So it would seem."

"I wonder why."

"Maybe you should ask him." _Yes, Chang—try starting a dialogue instead of endlessly picking at his insecurities! _

My partner snorted wryly. "Thanks, but no thanks. I have absolutely no need to get to know Duo Maxwell any better than I already do."

Ah, now _there _was a statement of fact. Neither one of us did have a reason to pry into Maxwell's personal life. We were just here to keep him alive. Besides, I didn't think he was likely to open up to us anyway.

"When are we due to check in with the Captain?" Chang asked.

"I'll call her when we reach the safe house."

"Do you suppose the forensics people found anything on that rug?"

I shrugged, and then glanced back at our sleeping witness, wondering how soundly asleep he really was. When Chang looked my way, I put a finger to my lips and jerked a thumb over my shoulder.

"I don't think our talking will wake him," muttered my partner. "Not after the noise I had to make before."

"I'm not worried about waking him," I admitted. "I'm more concerned that he's not as asleep as he'd have us believe. We shouldn't discuss the case in front of a potential witness."

"True," conceded Chang. "And he is a devious little shit, isn't he? Can you believe that bullshit with the waitress?"

I shook my head. "He certainly knows how to be charming—when he wants to."

"Well I don't know why he has to be such an asshole to us," came the bitter reply.

_Maybe because you're an asshole to him…_

"He seems to have some specific reasons." I sighed, and then darted a sidelong glance at my partner, thinking the same thing about him and his animosity towards Maxwell. Why _was_ he so singularly offended by the young punk? His dislike of Maxwell—of _all _gang bangers—was more intense than seemed reasonable at times. Maybe I could ask him later, out of earshot of our sly charge.

"Just—try to keep your temper in check with him," I suggested carefully. "He was reluctant enough about testifying to begin with. And frankly, we need his cooperation in order to prove our case."

"Even with it—can you imagine how a jury will see him?" came the scathing reply. "I mean—he just _looks _like trouble. You even said it yourself—a walking violation."

"I've seen the DA work wonders," I shrugged. "There was this case where he had to put a cross-dresser on the stand and make the guy come off as a reliable witness."

"Did he succeed?"

I smirked slightly. "Yeah—and I think one of the bailiffs asked the guy out on a date afterward."

Wufei chuckled. "He let him dress in drag?"

"Yeah, he had to. The man was the ugliest bastard you ever saw when he wore men's clothes. But put him in a nice pantsuit—."

Chang laughed even harder at that, and I breathed a small sigh of relief that I'd been able to ease some of the tension that had been growing between us. The last thing I needed was to be at odds with my partner during a case like this.

We didn't talk much after that. I watched the scenery slide by, while planning what sort of security measures I could set up at the safe house, once we reached it. And Wufei seemed very content with the silence.

* * *

I must have dozed off for a bit, because the next thing I knew, we were pulling into a gas station. I sat up and ran a hand across my eyes, automatically looking back to see that Maxwell was awake, and doing the same.

"Sleep well?" Chang asked me.

"Right." I yawned, trying to stretch as best I could in the cramped vehicle.

"Good timing," Maxwell spoke up, rummaging in his backpack for something. "That chili's catching up with me."

"I get first call on the bathroom then!" Wufei said quickly, almost with a hint of wry humor.

"Chicken," muttered Maxwell, pulling a brush out, and starting to work the tie off the end of his braid.

I tried not to watch in rapt fascination as he shook out waves of glimmering chestnut hair and began running the brush through it—but _damn_! It was impossible not to wonder what that would feel like running through my fingers.

The very instant the car slowed to a stop, I flung open the door. "Be right back," I said quickly, heading for the office to get the key to the rest room.

Hey, it was the only excuse I could think of to get away from the sight of that hair. And besides, I really did want to look over the facility and make sure it was reasonably secure.

When I got back to the car, Chang was pumping gas, and Maxwell was still inside, just finishing redoing his braid. I dangled the key in front of my partner. "You may as well go ahead. I'll finish fueling the car."

It didn't take him a split-second to snatch the key from my hand and head for the rest room.

Maxwell clambered out of the back seat and stretched languidly, the sleeve of the tee shirt pulling back to fully reveal that goddamned Grim Reaper tattoo.

"Would you _cover _that thing?" I demanded, glaring at his arm.

He looked down in surprise, and then ran a hand over the elaborate marking. "I forget it's there," he admitted with a shrug, reaching back into the car for his jacket.

Of course, when he bent over, I got a perfect view of his ass—even better than when he'd strutted out of the interrogation room the other night. I hastily averted my eyes and bit back a groan, trying to remember exactly how long it had been since I had sex. Too long, was the only conclusion I could reach. If I was desperate enough to be drooling at the sight of a fucking street punk's rear end, it had been way too long.

"Where the hell are we?" came a quiet voice so close it made me jump.

I looked up to find Maxwell standing just a little closer than made me comfortable. "Almost halfway there," I told him, jumping again as the gas pump clicked off. God, was I twitchy!

I hung up the hose, and replaced the gas cap, while Maxwell moved around to the back of the car and lit up a cigarette. At least he had the presence of mind to do it away from the pumps.

Chang came back a few minutes later, and Maxwell headed for the bathroom with me at his heels.

"You're starting to get on my nerves with that," commented the braided man, not even looking back at me.

"Get used to it. I'm not letting you out of my sight," I told him frankly. "It's my job to protect you, and I can't do that if I'm not with you."

"Makes me feel like a fuckin' prisoner," he muttered, darting a resentful glare over his shoulder.

"Deal with it," I replied flatly.

We got back on the road shortly thereafter, though Maxwell seemed to have slept as much as he was going to. That meant he was well-rested and therefore rest_less_.

We'd barely gotten up to highway speed when he was leaning over the seat and shoving a new cd into the player, cranking it up just loud enough to be annoying. I barely resisted the impulse to shut it off and fling the cd out the window.

"_Must_ you have it so noisy in here?" Wufei asked, scowling darkly.

Maxwell looked over at him, grinning unrepentantly. "I _like _music, detective. Used to be a dancer, remember?"

"A stripper," muttered Chang darkly.

"An _exotic_ dancer," came the snide reply. Maxwell slid into the back seat again, and turned his attention to the window, watching the scenery fly by and tapping out accompaniment to the music on the back of our seat.

"Were you a drummer, too?" I asked with a glare.

He just smirked, and subsided, dropping his hands to his lap. But I noticed the slim fingers pattered ceaselessly on his thigh in a restless gesture. And after a few minutes, he rolled the window open a couple of inches and lit up a cigarette. "What time is it?"

I glanced at the clock on the dash. "A little after six."

"When are we stopping?"

Chang and I had discussed that very question before we left—but we'd never shared the details with Maxwell. It just didn't seem necessary for him to know.

"We're driving straight through until we get there," I told him frankly.

He squirmed on the seat a little. "How many more hours?"

"With time out for meals, refueling and bathroom breaks, we could be there by noon tomorrow."

"Fuck."

"What's _your _problem?" demanded my partner curtly. "Yuy and I are the ones doing the driving and planning."

"Exactly." Maxwell fidgeted with his cigarette, his restlessness reminding me of a junkie who'd gone too long without a fix.

_Crap! A junkie?_

"What are you on?" I asked bluntly—coldly—glaring hard enough to just about bore holes through him.

He looked blankly at me for a second, and then stiffened, realizing what I was talking about. "Nothing!" he said icily. "I haven't used anything hard since I hooked up with Trowa. We don't _do _that shit!"

When I merely raised a skeptical eyebrow, his face darkened. "Fuckin' ass!" He tucked his cigarette in the window handle, and then yanked off his jacket, his movements jerky with anger. He then reached both arms across the seat to show me the absence of needle tracks. "Satisfied? Or d'you want me to drop my pants so you can check the veins in my legs, too?" he challenged.

_Hell yes!_

_I meant __no__! Definitely not! _The last thing I needed was to see Maxwell all but naked in the back seat of that rental car.

"Just sit the hell back," I ordered gruffly, trying not to let my gaze travel the corded muscles of his forearms. "I had the right to ask. You're goddamned jumpy for someone who's _not _in need of a fix."

The indigo eyes shot me a deadly look. "I'm not used to fuckin' sitting around, asshole. I'm usually on my way to work about now. I'm a night person, remember?" He finished his cigarette and tamped it out on the sole of one of his boots before tossing the butt out the window.

For a moment I considered apologizing for my mistake—and then thought back to our previous interactions, and his "kiss my ass" attitude, and decided he didn't deserve one. Besides, I'd be damned if I showed weakness; it would only give him ammunition to use later.

"Night person or not—you have nothing to do right now, so you might as well try to relax."

"Right—stuck in a car non-stop for over twenty-four hours with two anal-retentive cops who hate my music, my clothes, my lifestyle, and me!" he blurted, slumping back against the seat and glaring out the window. "This sucks."

I'd have contradicted him—but he was pretty much right. His music was too loud, his clothes too revealing, his lifestyle mostly illegal, and his personality abrasive. Granted, "hate" was a bit strong of a word. I might have used the phrase "intensely disliked" instead.

"We'll stop for dinner in an hour or so," I told him. "You can get out and stretch your legs a bit then." I fixed a stern glare on him. "But this time keep in mind that we're supposed to blend in. Don't go collecting waitresses' phone numbers again."

Wufei turned a disbelieving look on me. "He got her phone number?"

"On the bottom of the pie container," Maxwell said rather smugly, sliding forward to cross his arms on the back of the seat again. "Jealous, Chang?"

"Disgusted," he muttered sullenly.

"Can't help being irresistible," Maxwell shrugged, giving my partner a beatific smile.

I couldn't help it; I gave a derisive snort. "You mean _egotistical_," I sneered.

The indigo eyes fixed a narrow look on me. "It's not ego if you've got something worth bragging about," he retorted.

"But you don't."

"Says you."

Wufei glanced over at us. "Is that what it sounds like when Maxwell and I argue?" he asked me rather wearily.

"Worse," I assured him.

"Damn." The dark eyes shot me an apologetic look. "Sorry."

I couldn't help smirking in return. "Just don't let it happen again."

"As if—!" came a skeptical comment from the back seat.

Sadly, I had a feeling Maxwell was right. I just couldn't imagine Chang being able to bite his tongue _that _hard. If the music didn't grate on his nerves, our witness' snide comments would—and I'd bet money that one or the other would drive my partner over the edge again, and soon.

* * *

It didn't even take as long as I'd thought it might. Less than an hour later they were both too edgy to be tolerant.

And when Chang pulled into the parking lot of yet another greasy spoon joint, even _I_ sighed wearily, wishing for a more fulfilling meal than a roadside burger shop could provide. Maxwell was more vocal in his dissatisfaction.

"Aw, for fuck's sake, Chang! Isn't there anyplace decent to eat in this godforsaken wasteland?" he complained, pulling his jacket on again as we parked.

"This from someone who lived on the streets all his life," my partner muttered snidely.

"Yeah, well, since I hooked up with Zechs, I've moved up to a finer class of dining," Maxwell shot back loftily.

I tried to picture the brassy, outspoken street kid at a five-star restaurant on Zechs Merquise's arm—and failed miserably. It just didn't track.

"Well your crime lord boyfriend is _dead_ now," Wufei said harshly, an underlying note of satisfaction in his voice. "He pissed off the wrong people and got his fucking brains blown out on a very nice Persian rug. So you'd better get used to slumming again. It's right back into the gutter you crawled out of."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Chang to back off a little—that Maxwell was reluctant enough and didn't need extra prodding to decide to tell us to fuck off—but I wasn't quick enough.

Maxwell flung open the car door and bolted.

"Goddamn you, Chang!" I snarled at my partner, before taking off after our wayward charge. And why was _I _always the one who had to run after Maxwell?

The kid was damned fast, but I caught up to him when he had to pause to scale a chain-link fence bordering the limited access highway. Grabbing him by the belt loops, I dragged him back down to earth.

He spun with a fist poised to strike, but when he saw it was me and not Wufei, he stopped. "Let go, Yuy. I fuckin' changed my mind. I'll take my chances on my own."

"I can't let you do that," I said firmly. "We have a deal."

"The deal didn't include getting insulted by your uptight asshole of a partner."

He turned away again, and I sighed, yanking the cuffs from my hip pocket and quickly slapping one end on his right wrist. "Sorry about this, Maxwell."

He tried to swing at me with his left hand, but it was simple enough to dodge and snag that wrist, linking it to the other behind his back.

"Goddamn it, Yuy! Get these things off me!" Maxwell yelled in outrage, turning a perfectly livid gaze my way.

"Not until you settle down and come back to the car peacefully."

His kick took me just above the knee, buckling my leg and nearly dropping me to the ground—but I maintained my balance, and stumbled back out of range before he could follow through on the attack. The little bastard was unbelievably quick—but then, I probably should have expected that from a dancer, right?

"Fucking shit!" I blurted, glaring up at him from a half-bent position as I rubbed at my bruised leg. "Are you nuts?"

"Get the cuffs off me—now!"

"Get your ass back to the car!"

At that point Chang finally arrived on the scene, his face dark as a thundercloud. "What the fuck are you two playing at? Do you _want _to attract attention? Why not take out advertising space that Duo Maxwell is headed upstate to hide out from Khushrenada's hit men?" His onyx eyes darted a look to the highway behind us, bringing our attention to the passing cars and the curious glances we were getting.

"Goddamn it," I growled, limping over and grabbing Maxwell's cuffed wrists, yanking them up behind him. "Start walking or I swear to God I'll break 'em." And I meant it, too.

A faint grunt of pain told me I'd gotten my point across, and my prisoner began to walk slowly, doggedly back towards the car.

When we got there, I opened the door and shoved him in, looking over the roof to fix my partner with a vicious glare. "You go in and get us something to go. I'll take first watch."

He nodded.

"And Chang?"

"Hm?"

"Keep your fucking mouth shut in the future—okay?"

"Fuck you, Yuy," he growled back. "The guy's street trash. And he should expect to be treated as such!"

"He may be street trash—but he's also the only witness we've got—and we can't afford to lose him because you feel like expressing your opinions out loud."

He gave a curt nod and stalked off, muttering under his breath.

I slid into my seat, looking back to see Maxwell glaring at me. "I want the fuckin' cuffs off, Yuy. I'm not your prisoner. You're supposed to be protecting me."

"It's pretty difficult to do that if you run off," I pointed out with meticulous logic.

He took a deep breath, but instead of exploding in anger, he simply let it out in a heavy sigh. "I needed some space," he said in a sullen tone. "An' I didn't need your slanty-eyed pal there reminding me that someone important to me is dead. Okay?"

I didn't know if he was more upset by being reminded of Merquise's grisly death, or by Chang's mention of the gutter he crawled out of. Not that it mattered. Chang had been a bit excessive either way.

If my knee didn't hurt so much, I'd probably have considered that. Instead, I just felt a rush of irritation. "No, it's not okay. You slept with a drug lord, Maxwell—and you witnessed his murder. Don't expect to be coddled or treated with kid gloves. We're out here on the road trying to keep you alive long enough to put a killer away. But that doesn't mean we have to baby you—or put up with abuse from you."

"Y'wanna talk about abuse?" he snarled back. "Take the goddamned cuffs off, or the next time we stop for food, I'm calling Winner and telling him I changed my mind about cooperating with the pigs."

His stoop to name-calling merely made me smile, glad I'd pushed him to that level of anger. "Yeah, and you can tell him we'll have you back to face assault charges." I dropped my gaze to my leg, running a hand over the sore area.

"Oh, don't be a pussy!" Maxwell sneered. "I didn't kick you that hard or you wouldn't be walking, Yuy."

My mind drifted back to the squad room and an abusive punk spitting in my face all those years ago; I felt an upwelling of anger. "Maxwell—when Chang gets back, we are going to lay down some ground rules. And you are going to obey them, or I'll personally haul your sorry ass back to town and hand you to Khushrenada myself!"

He knew it was an empty threat, and yet he backed off just slightly. "Go ahead," he challenged…though it sounded a bit forced. "It'd save us all a lot of trouble."

"Don't tempt me," I growled back with less vehemence.

At that point, a speculative gleam came into the indigo eyes, and his lips twitched as if he had the sudden urge to smirk. His whole demeanor changed in a heartbeat. "You'd like it if I did," he purred.

Yes, _purred_.

How he made his voice go from harsh and coarse to a deep, sultry croon was beyond me. But I felt an immediate shiver slide up my spine.

I forced a sneer. "Maxwell, I don't think there's anything you could do that I'd like."

He leaned forward in the seat, bringing his face closer to mine. "You're wrong there, detective." His eyes were half-lidded; but that didn't hide the glimmer of lust in them. "I could make you feel better than you've ever felt in your whole life. Fuck you clear into next week—."

I glanced at the window beside me to be sure it wasn't fogging up. Or maybe I was looking for an escape route. All I knew was that my witness had gone from prey to predator so fast it made my head swim. And was it _hot _in here, or what?

"M-maxwell—." I meant my voice to sound threatening, but it came out as a hoarse croak.

He gave a throaty chuckle, licking his lips and looking very hungrily at mine. "You ever kissed a guy…detective?"

Oh, there just _was_ no right answer to that question! If I said "yes," he'd know I was gay and take it as an invitation. And if I said "no," I had a feeling he'd suggest I give it a try.

He took my silence for the flustered, muddled reaction it was, and smiled lasciviously. "Why don't you let me show you just how good I could make you feel? Kiss you, an' lick you…suck you, an' fuck you…"

Goddamnit, he was starting to get a reaction I didn't want to show. "Shut up, Maxwell!" I snapped out desperately, backing as far as I could against the door, trying to control my breathing, which was growing heavier by the second.

He was leaning partway over the seat, way closer than I wanted him to be, and the breath from his parted lips was practically steaming in the cool air.

A sharp rap on the window behind me made me spin around in a panic, grabbing for my gun, only to see Wufei glaring through what was, indeed, a slightly steamed-up window.

"Open up, Yuy!" he said sharply.

I hastily rolled down the window, hoping my face wasn't as flushed as my body felt. "What?" I growled out.

"It's going to be about twenty minutes for our order to be ready," Chang announced. His dark eyes scanned the steamy windows of the back seat. "What the hell have you been doing? Looks like a parked car with a couple of teenagers making out in it."

I know my face flamed at the implication, and I heard Maxwell give a sultry laugh. "Well then maybe next time you should stay gone a little longer," he suggested.

Chang's gaze came back to me, and I glared heatedly. "He's just been mouthing off, is all," I informed my partner. "The usual crap. You want me to take over driving when the food's ready?"

"No—I'm good for a few more hours," he replied, his frown fading to be replaced by a slightly evil smirk. "If you want to gag Maxwell, I'd understand."

I could think of a few things I'd like to gag him with. And on the heels of that thought, I decided I needed to clear my head. "I'll go pick up the order, Chang. You babysit. And _don't_ editorialize on Maxwell's lifestyle any more, okay?"

I swung the door open so quickly my partner barely sidestepped out of the way, and got out, wincing at the reminder of my sore leg when I put weight on it.

"If he runs again, can I shoot him?" asked my still-amused partner.

"Yeah—aim for the kneecaps," I suggested, turning and walking off towards the restaurant.


	14. One Toke Over the Line

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fourteen: One Toke Over the Line

As I stalked across the parking lot, the cool air helped relieve the buildup of heat Maxwell had caused with his antics. I wasn't attracted to him. I _wasn't_! And I kept telling myself that. It wasn't attraction. It was—reaction. Like watching a porn movie. You might have a physical reaction to porn, but it didn't mean you wanted to fuck the star of the film.

Right?

God, what was it about him? Yeah, I already admitted he was good-looking; that wasn't even in question. But his personality—! He was rude, outspoken, brassy and snide. He was also shrewd, calculating and sly—nothing I found remotely appealing in a guy.

Come to think of it, I wasn't sure exactly _what _I looked for in a guy. Growing up with a guardian whose sole focus was his current mission, I didn't dare admit my sexual orientation. In college, I'd had a couple of short term relationships with guys who weren't studying criminology like I was. One had been an artist, and another a philosophy major. Both had quickly decided I was far too focused on my studies and career and moved on to other things.

Obviously they hadn't been wrong. I was still focused on my job—still letting it fill my days and nights to the point where it took over my life. And, dammit, I'd made a difference. I'd taken a lot of scum off the streets, and had the best conviction rate in the department—though that last bit was largely due to Wufei's meticulous attention to details and regulations.

If I could bring down Treize Khushrenada, it would be the achievement of a lifetime. It would literally make my career, and open any doors I wanted it to—I could probably end up a Captain on that kind of success. And if I'd been the type to go into politics, I could have bartered it into any office I chose.

I found myself smirking at the thought. Me? A politician? Right.

While I was waiting for our food to be ready, I decided to take a chance on calling Captain Po on my cell phone. It wasn't the type with a tracking device, and I thought I might still have enough of a signal to get reception. As long as I was careful what was broadcast over open airwaves, I could risk checking in.

"First Precinct, Captain Po's office…"

I recognized the voice at once. "Relena? I need you to put me through to Captain Po."

"Heero? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Fine. We're—I'm fine. Could I speak to the Captain?"

"Yes, but, where _are_ you?"

"I can't tell you that, Relena."

There was a pause. "So she _did _send you and Wufei off with that witness in the Khushrenada case, didn't she?"

I had an urge to reach through the phone and throttle the girl. "Put her on the phone _now_!" I barked out sharply, hearing a hiss of indrawn breath.

A moment later, the Captain's voice came through the phone. "Po here. Is everything all right?"

"Affirmative," I said, offering nothing in the way of information that anyone might overhear or tap into. "But you need to inform your secretary to mind her own business and obey security protocols."

"I will," came the firm voice. I knew the Captain would follow through. "If everything is fine, why are you calling?"

"This is probably the last time I can check in until we reach our destination. I expect to lose cell phone reception at some point."

"I see. At what point should I worry if I haven't heard from you?"

"Twenty-four hours. After that, if I fail to contact you via e-mail or phone, you can assume something has gone wrong."

I just hoped the "something" wasn't that Maxwell took off again and succeeded in escaping this time.

"Dare I ask how smoothly things are going?"

I gave a wry chuckle, impressed by her intuition. "They could be better—but we're going to have a—dialogue—shortly. To establish some—boundaries."

It was her turn to laugh, which was unusual in and of itself. My boss rarely loosened up that much. "I had a long talk with a mutual friend who saw you off on your trip. He said you might encounter some—challenges."

"He was making an understatement," I said vaguely. "But it's nothing I can't handle."

"Glad to hear that. And there's one more thing—."

"Yes?"

"Behave yourself. And pass the word along."

"Yes Captain," I muttered grudgingly, wishing I could elaborate on our willful charge's behavior—or lack thereof. But over an open phone line, I wasn't about to be specific.

"I'll be waiting for your next report. And I'll answer my own phone from now on."

"Thank you."

I hung up, feeling relieved. While neither Captain Po nor I had mentioned names, or cases, or even how many of us there were and what we were up to—Relena had blurted out enough to clue an eavesdropper that there were two detectives with a protected witness. And while she might have no idea where we were, she knew enough about us and the case to be a serious security risk. I was glad the Captain was going to keep her out of the loop.

By the time I finished the call, our takeout meals were ready, and I had the clerk load them in a paper bag so I could carry them out to the car.

Chang was sitting on the hood of the vehicle, calmly inspecting his fingernails, but I could hear Maxwell's voice cussing him out through the closed windows.

"What now?" I asked wearily.

"I refused to take the cuffs off until your return, and he threw a tantrum."

"So you came out here for peace and quiet?" I asked. "How come he didn't follow you?"

"As antiquated as this car is, it has child safety locks," replied my smug partner. "I engaged them, and he can't open the back doors of the car."

"Jesus Christ!" I growled, shoving the bag into Wufei's hand and going to the car, pulling open the front passenger door.

Maxwell had maneuvered himself almost into the front seat, even with his hands cuffed behind his back, and he glared at me so hard it's a wonder I didn't spontaneously combust. "They come off—_now_—," he snarled, "—or kiss my testimony goodbye."

I bent so I was even with him. "I'll be happy to take them off," I said calmly, feeling more put out with Chang than with him for the moment. "Just promise you won't run again."

He opened his mouth—probably to spit in my face—and I stepped back and shut the door, folding my arms across my chest.

After a long moment of struggling into a sitting position on the seat, he scowled at me through the closed door, and then nodded.

I immediately opened the door, pulling the key for the restraints out of my pocket, and he eagerly turned his back so I could reach them. The instant they came loose, he jerked his hands away and dove for the driver's side door.

I thought he was going to run again, his promise forgotten. But he merely leapt out of the car and went around to the front to accost Chang. "Listen, you fucking arrogant piece of shit! You lock me in like that again, and I'll kick your ass!"

"What was I supposed to do—listen to you bitch and moan about wearing the cuffs for five more minutes?"

"You were supposed to take 'em off! I know the key's the same for all of 'em—and you have a set."

"If I had my way, you'd wear them until we reach our destination."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You want me in cuffs, detective, you better be fuckin' me at the time. Otherwise, they're not my kind of jewelry!"

Goddamn it! Did he have to use sex in everything he said? I wasn't into leather and chains—but the thought of him handcuffed to the headboard of a bed wormed its way into my mind anyway. And it was damned erotic.

Well, it was to me. Chang, on the other hand, turned an interesting shade of red. "Goddamnit, Maxwell, I don't want to hear about your kinks!"

The indigo eyes were alight with anger; but at the same time I could see Maxwell processing new information. And a very slight, very malicious smirk found its way to his lips. "For a prude, Chang, you sure are quick to slap a guy in handcuffs."

"I think Yuy did the handcuffing," Wufei pointed out, quickly regaining his poise.

"So he did." Those calculating eyes turned back to me, and Maxwell very deliberately winked, mouthing the words "our little secret," before grabbing the take-out bag from Wufei's hands.

We settled in to eat at a picnic table beside the parking lot, watching the straggling flow of traffic on the nearby highway while we wolfed down another hasty meal of burgers and—yes—fries.

I didn't even look at Maxwell throughout the whole meal. I was still flustered enough about the shit he pulled in the car; I certainly didn't need to watch him play with his food.

"Hey—Yuy?"

"Hm?" I asked disinterestedly, my attention mostly focused on our surroundings.

"When we get where we're going, I want to call Quatre."

I shot him a look, gauging his mood, which didn't seem especially sullen, all things considered. "Backing out?"

"No." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Probably not." He shrugged casually. "Like you pointed out, Treize tried to kill me. I'm not stupid enough to think he'll stop."

"You can talk to Winner once we have a few rules hashed out," I said firmly.

I watched his face tighten a little in anger, though he made no outburst. "What kind of rules?"

"First, you need to start listening to Chang and me. When we tell you to do something, it's not out of spite or maliciousness; there's a reason. And generally that reason is to protect your life. Hiding the braid and the tattoo is just self-preservation for you. Y'got that?"

"I'm not stupid," he pointed out. "I know why I need to hide 'em…I'm just not used to it. It's like…someone telling you to hide those big baby blues, Yuy. You forget they're there…but to anyone seeing 'em, they're pretty unforgettable."

I felt heat on my face, and had to look away from the intensity of those teasing indigo eyes. "Next rule. You don't go anywhere without either Chang or me at your back."

He made a rude noise. "Fancy that," he sneered. "Cops watchin' _my_ back?" He darted a narrow look at my partner. "Must gall the living shit out of you to have to do that, Chang."

"You've no idea," snarled Wufei.

Maxwell gave a satisfied smirk. "In that case, I guess I kinda like it."

I sighed. "Another rule, Maxwell—no talking to strangers."

"Yes, mother."

"Seriously!" I snapped, scowling at him. "You almost told Rhonda where we were from and your real name!"

"Do you honestly think some two-bit hit man is gonna chat up a waitress in some hole-in-the-wall diner on the off chance she saw me?" he asked in exasperation.

"Whether I think it or not, it's a possibility we have to consider," I retorted. "You can't take _anything _for granted, Maxwell. There's just no room for error…and no room for… goofing around." _Or taunting your caretakers…_I wanted to add.

"All about the mission," he sighed. "Yeah, Yuy. You just keep doing what you do best."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head, glancing around restlessly. "You about done laying down the law, detective? Or should I start taking notes?"

I crumpled up my empty food wrapper. "There'll be more to discuss once we reach the safe house," I told him frankly, ignoring his snide comment.

"I'm sure there will," he muttered, standing and gathering some of the trash from the table.

Within moments, we'd cleaned up our area, visited the restroom, and were back on the road.

"We've got about six exits to go," I told my partner, glancing over the map one more time. "Then we get off the highway and onto secondaries."

He nodded agreement. "Shall we stop to refuel at that final rest area then?"

"Yeah, and we can buy a few bottled drinks and snacks to tide us over if there aren't many stores or diners along the back roads."

I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed Maxwell seemed particularly tense, a scowl furrowing his brow as he looked out the window.

"Problem?" I asked.

He glanced up at me and shrugged a little, his face troubled. "Just—I've never been out of the city," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "How far are we going?"

Chang gave an evil chuckle. "Did you bring the bear repellent, Yuy?"

"Bears?" demanded Maxwell, his worried gaze darting from my partner to me.

"Chang—," I said warningly. "Don't toy with him." I looked back at Maxwell. "Don't worry about bears," I chided. "I'm not about to let our star witness get eaten by bears."

He didn't look very reassured. "Are you saying there _are_ bears?"

I rolled my eyes, remembering Winner's warning to keep the garbage cans inside the garage so as not to attract the occasional black bear. "Not enough to bother with," I said vaguely.

"That's not comforting," he grumbled.

"Relax, Maxwell—what bears there are won't come near the cabin," Chang said soothingly. I could tell he was up to something, and I shot him a warning look. "The _wolves _keep them away."

"Chang!" I snarled.

"Wolves?"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" I blurted. "Stop baiting him, Chang! And Maxwell—grow up! We're going to a Winner family hunting lodge. It's probably built to withstand a siege, for God's sake. You've got nothing to worry about."

I heard a huff of breath, and glanced back to see our nervous witness digging in his backpack—probably for another cigarette. He looked up briefly, muttering about needing to calm himself down, and resumed his search.

A moment later, he was lighting up in the back seat, and Chang darted him a glare. "Window, Maxwell!" he cautioned.

"Yeah, whatever." Cracking the window open an inch or so, Maxwell edged closer to it and took a long drag on his—. Shit! That was no cigarette!

_Oh dear God, tell me he did __not__ just light up a joint!_

Even as the distinctive smell of marijuana wafted over the seat, I heard Chang curse loudly in Chinese. Then he switched back to English. "Goddamnit, Maxwell! That's illegal!" he stormed, reaching over the seat without taking his eyes off the road, and snatching the offending joint from Maxwell's hand.

"Hey! That stuff ain't cheap!" protested our witness, making a grab for it.

But Chang was faster, opening his window and flipping it out.

"Chang! You asshole!" snapped Maxwell. "It was _one _fucking joint for chrissakes!"

Wufei locked up the brakes, pulling the car swiftly into the breakdown lane and throwing it into park. Then he leaned menacingly over the seat to glare at Maxwell. "I don't care if it was one _half_," he snarled. "You will not use illegal substances in my presence!"

"I need it to mellow out enough to put up with your shit!" retorted Maxwell, reaching for his backpack.

"You have _more_?" Chang demanded, jumping out of the car and yanking open the back door. "Give it to me—_now_!"

"Fuck you!"

I swear, it occurred to me to shoot them both and drive off. They were worse than kids!

"Chang—," I began.

He turned a furious look towards me. "Don't make excuses for him, Yuy!"

"I'm not. But we're on the side of a highway, for Christ's sake!" He'd said it himself barely an hour ago—the last thing we needed was to draw attention to ourselves.

Wufei ignored me, methodically pulling Maxwell's belongings out of the car and starting to rummage through them.

"Goddamnit, Chang! That's mine!" Maxwell snapped, actually getting into a tug of war over the backpack.

At that point I'd had enough. "Chang—give it back and get in the car, or so help me, I'll call Po tonight and have you pulled from the case!"

He paused, glaring at me.

"I mean it, Wufei," I warned, using his first name to soften him up a bit. "This is not the place for this. When we get to the cabin, you can search Maxwell's stuff to your heart's content."

"No, he can't!" Maxwell protested. "Goddamnit, Yuy! Cut me some slack here. I gotta put up with crap from both of you. The least you can do is let me have a measly little ounce of relief."

"Actually, I can't," I sighed. "Honestly, Maxwell—we've got rules to obey, too."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" he blurted in frustration, pulling a small plastic baggie from his belongings and flinging it out the door at Chang. "There! Happy?"

Wufei took the baggie and very deliberately dumped the contents into the dirt, grinding it under his heel. Then he shoved the luggage back in, shut the door, and went back to the driver's seat.

Maxwell was busy lighting a cigarette as my partner got in and pulled the car back onto the road.

I thought perhaps we'd get the silent treatment for a few hours. But moments after we resumed our journey, Maxwell sat up and fixed a curious look on Chang.

"What kind of name is Woofie?"

"Wu_fei_," snarled my partner, his tone clearly conveying how much he hated having his name butchered.

_Oh God no. Don't show him any sign of weakness, you fool!_

"It's Chinese," he added icily.

Sure enough, like a shark smelling blood in the water, Maxwell went for the kill. "Woooo—fay?"

Chang didn't even dignify that with a response, though I thought I heard a low growl of frustration.

"Woooo—fay Chang," Maxwell continued, mouthing the name as if tasting it. "Hm, how 'bout 'Fei-fei?"

"Let it go, Maxwell," I mumbled in an undertone, sure that at any instant he'd be treated to a lecture on the correct order in which to say the names.

He grinned nastily. "No way in Hell, Yuy." His gleaming eyes fixed on my hapless partner again. "As long as Wuffers is gonna be such a prick, he's gonna suffer the consequences."

"Don't say a word, Chang," I warned, glaring him into silence. I turned my attention back to Maxwell. "Do you really want to antagonize someone who has black belts in half a dozen martial arts?"

"Does he now?" crooned Maxwell, eyeing Chang speculatively. He slid a hand towards Wufei's bicep, as if he were going to feel his muscles.

"I'll fucking break that hand if it touches me!" snapped my partner without taking his eyes off the road.

My respect for Maxwell's sense of self-preservation went up several notches when he withdrew.

"Sheesh," he muttered under his breath. "Fuckin' homophobe."

"I don't fear them," came Chang's cold response. "I merely despise them."

_Ouch._

"D'you even _know _any?" challenged Maxwell. "Besides me, anyway." He slid me a glance that made me want to slump in my seat and cover my face. But I didn't.

"Your friend Barton."

"He doesn't count. You don't _know _him."

"And I have no desire to."

"Your loss," shrugged our passenger. His sly gaze turned my way. "So—how 'bout you? Are you a homophobe, too?"

"No." I was pretty sure he'd already guessed that…and probably a great deal more. He'd have had to be blind not to notice my reaction to his previous come-on.

"How come you're not as small-minded as your partner?" he pushed.

I shrugged. "Different upbringing, I suppose."

"I am _not _small-minded!" Wufei protested. "Yuy—you hate junkies, pimps and hookers as much as I do. Don't gays fall into the same category?"

I thought perhaps it was time to try to expand my partner's horizons a bit…carefully. "I think Mister Winner would disagree with you," I pointed out.

"Winner's gay?" demanded Wufei, his jaw dropping.

I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. "You never noticed? Shit, Chang, you're a detective. And weren't you there when he said if Maxwell wasn't his client he'd be tempted—?" _Oh shit._

Maxwell's eyes lit up, and he hung over the seat again. "Really?" he asked gleefully. "Quat thinks I'm hot?"

I sighed. "No, Maxwell—he just made an observation the night you were walking out of the station."

"So he was 'observing' my _ass_?" smirked the braided man. "It _is _one of my best features." He shifted on the seat and patted one side of his butt affectionately. "Don't you think?" he added slyly.

I pulled my gaze away from where it had strayed. "That's—none of my business," I said firmly.

He leaned closer. "I could _make _it your business," he purred suggestively.

"Maxwell—stop drooling!" Chang snarled, shoving the braided man back into the rear of the car. "Yuy doesn't need to put up with your antics any more than I do!"

Maxwell only subsided for a moment. Then he sat up, cocking his head. "Yuy? So what's _your _first name, hm?"

Well, shit.

"What's it to you?" Chang snarled. "You'll probably just butcher _it_ as well."

"Heero," I said quickly, to forestall another Chang/Maxwell debate.

Maxwell grinned widely. "Really?" He batted his lashes at me. "My Heero," he cooed teasingly. "Hell—that name is just perfect!"

I glared sternly at him. "So is Duo," I pointed out, thinking how smoothly he could switch from being a clown and a tease, to being a cop-hating, angry young hoodlum.

He paused, the smile fading as he looked squarely back at me. "You have no idea," he said with a sobering of tone that left me wanting him to elaborate.

But once again, the moment I began _wanting_ him to talk, he clammed up, rummaging through the luggage until he found a heavier shirt to throw on over his tee-shirt, and then settling back down as if he were going to sleep again. And since that meant peace and quiet for awhile, I decided it might not be a bad thing at all.

* * *

Around ten o'clock I spotted the sign for our exit, and Chang pulled the car into one of those plazas off the highway, where you can get gas, food, souvenirs, or tourist maps.

"Well, so much for smooth roads and easy travel," sighed my partner, shutting off the car at one of the pumps. "Mind if I visit the restroom first, and you and Maxwell go after?"

"Take him with you," I suggested. "I'm going to fill the car and buy the supplies."

Chang sighed. "Flip a coin?"

"Jesus, Wuffers, I don't bite!" Duo snapped, throwing open his door and climbing out of the car, his braid already tucked down the back of his jacket. Then the indigo eyes met mine over the roof of the car. "—much," he added with a wicked smirk.

I was grateful it was dark enough to hide the color that rose to my cheeks. "Just behave yourself," I said firmly, turning to the pump as my two companions strode off.

It took me no time at all to top off the tank, and I headed into the convenience store for the snacks and drinks. Just inside the door, I noticed a rack of batteries and electronics, and was struck with sudden inspiration, picking up something I was sure would come in handy. A few minutes later, with one large and one small bag in my hands, I headed off to visit the bathroom before returning to the car.

When I got back there, Chang and Maxwell were already settled in—the latter smoking a cigarette, and the former leaning his head out of the window.

I exchanged a look with my partner. "No problems?"

"None beyond the usual."

I got into the driver's seat and dangled the smaller paper bag over the back. "Maxwell."

Giving me a puzzled look, he tossed out his cigarette and accepted the bag, then managed a cocky smirk. "Y'replacing my stash of weed, Yuy?"

"Hardly." I made a show of concentrating on buckling my seatbelt, suddenly a little uncomfortable with what might be taken as a friendly gesture. I didn't watch as he opened the bag and peeked inside.

"Hey—nice!" he said with a grin I could hear in his voice. "What's the occasion?"

I glanced back to see him happily ripping open the plastic container and examining the little portable cd player. Then I caught Chang's searching gaze and raised eyebrow, and my defensive instincts kicked in. "It's so you can listen to what you want without subjecting Chang and me to your—particular—taste in music," I told Maxwell.

That explanation seemed to satisfy my partner, who promptly ejected the disc from the car radio and handed it over the seat. "I'd have said peculiar, rather than particular. But so long as my ears are spared, I'm grateful, Yuy."

"Yeah, me too," Maxwell piped up, having finished putting batteries into the machine. "It's pretty cool." He deftly slid the cd in and put the little headset on, settling comfortably into his seat. "Thanks, Yuy."

"You're welcome." I couldn't help but feel a small upwelling of satisfaction. Maxwell was quiet, occupied, and seemed genuinely happy with his gift—and Chang had a hint of a smile on his lips for the first time in hours.

Yes! I'd found the perfect solution to the power struggles and sniping! Chang and Maxwell would have no need to interact at all until we reached our destination, where there'd be enough room to allow some space between them.

Feeling inordinately proud of myself, I started up the car and pulled back out onto the road. Of course, now that we were off the highway, our progress was slower—but we were also nearing our destination, far from anyone who'd ever heard of Treize Khushrenada and the Oz syndicate, or so I hoped.

I drove until two in the morning, and then switched off with Chang, promptly falling asleep to the steady motion of the car and the muted sound of Maxwell's music I could barely hear from the earphones.


	15. Don't All Cops Eat Doughnuts?

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: I neglected to give the group Brewer and Shipley credit for the title of the previous chapter. "One Toke Over the Line" was the name of their one big song hit, a long, long time ago. (Check it out…excellent song.)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifteen: Don't _All_ Cops Eat Doughnuts?

When I woke, it was to the sight of a grey pre-dawn sky and some of the most breathtaking scenery I'd ever encountered. We were up in the mountains, and sunrise was not far off, in all its springtime glory.

But what had nudged me into waking was the low murmur of voices.

"—no need to stop," Chang was saying firmly.

"But Wuffers—I just wanna see what a _real_ sunrise looks like."

"I thought you worked nights. I'm sure you've seen lots of sunrises on your way to bed—unless you were too drunk or stoned to recognize them."

"Watching the sun come up through smog and between skyscrapers isn't the same," Maxwell protested. "Shit, Chang, look out your window, for Christ's sake!"

"I've been looking out the windshield for hours, Maxwell. And yes, the scenery is lovely. But you can wait until we stop for breakfast in an hour or two to get out and look at the trees."

"What if I need to take a leak?"

"I'm sure there'll be bathroom facilities where we stop to eat."

"I can't wait."

"Yes, you can. There's no handy restrooms out here in the middle of nowhere."

"I could use a bush. Hell, I could just stand behind the car. No one would see—even if there were another car on this godforsaken road. We haven't seen one since, like, midnight."

"You could also wait one more hour. It won't kill you."

"Again—what if it does? Where would your precious case against Khushrenada be if I ruptured something and died painfully?"

"You are a fucking drama queen, Maxwell!"

"And you've got a stick so far up your ass it's a wonder it's not sticking out your ear. God! You need to loosen up, 'Fei-fei."

"And you need to learn manners and respect."

I pushed myself upright—yawning and running a hand across my face. "Pull over, Chang," I ordered curtly.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I need to take a leak as much as Maxwell does," I said flatly. "And I don't feel like waiting to see how long it takes us to find an open diner."

"Yes!" crowed Maxwell jubilantly, patting me on the shoulder in a sort of conspiratorial gesture that made me flinch.

Muttering imprecations, my partner pulled the car into one of those "scenic overlook" spots, and Maxwell was out the door almost before it stopped.

He jogged to a little rocking outcropping and stood with his mouth open in awe, watching as the sun slowly cleared the mountains and lit up the valley below us…bringing out the reddish tint of budding maples and the deep greens of the pines.

It really was a beautiful sight.

Chang looked over at me with a scowl. "Why do you indulge him, Yuy? He's not a child."

"This from the guy who used child door locks to keep him in?" I returned rather snidely.

"He was a drug lord's fuck toy, Yuy. He's a thief and a whore. Y'think he gives a shit about a sunrise? He just wanted to test how far he could push us again."

I was only half-listening by that time; most of my attention was on Maxwell, who'd raised his face to the sun, smiling blissfully and hugging his arms to himself as if clinging to the moment. The rays of the morning sun set his chestnut hair alight, and danced across his fair, almost too-pale skin, bathing him in its radiance.

"He's a street kid, Chang. He said himself, he's never left the city, and never seen anything like this," I pointed out. "What harm can it do to let him watch a sunrise?"

"He makes a lovely target standing in plain sight."

_Excellent choice of words—lovely._

I eyed the empty road before and after us. "If Khushrenada is far enough ahead of us to have people watching _this _road—we're already beaten."

My partner simply shook his head, scowling. "It's an unnecessary risk."

I looked once again at the figure bathed in sunlight, a truly genuine smile on his normally-guarded face. "The risk is minimal."

_And worth it! _The view of Maxwell basking happily in the rays of the rising sun was as breathtaking as the mountain scenery.

"Did you even need to pee?" Wufei asked snippily.

I shrugged. "Yes—but I can wait until we find a bathroom."

"So you _are_ spoiling him."

"Just _look _at him, Chang. He's happy…relaxed. For the first time since we left that hospital, he hasn't got a chip on his shoulder."

"His attitude isn't my concern—or yours either," Wufei pointed out. "His life and his testimony are the only matters that count."

"And we stand a better chance of safeguarding the first and obtaining the last if we keep him marginally happy," I countered.

Chang shook his head. "What will you do next?" he wondered. "Allow him his marijuana? Let him keep flirting shamelessly with you? Roll over and let him have his way in everything?"

Wow. It was pretty bad when I started finding innuendo in what Wufei said—but the thought of letting Maxwell have his way, _with me_, brought a blush to my face that I hoped my partner overlooked.

"He's not getting his own way," I said defensively. "We're merely keeping him occupied for the moment. Once we get to the cabin, we can set up our safety measures, and then settle in to wait for the trial date. There's no point in getting him stirred up and restless before we even start."

"You are _so _caving on this," Chang accused. "Why? What is it about him that's different from all the druggies and whores we've had in custody before?"

"Maybe the fact that he's not 'in custody.' He's under our protection."

"Some protection. If anyone had followed us, they'd have a perfect opportunity to take him out right here and now," muttered my partner, turning back towards the windshield as Maxwell came strolling over to the car.

"That was awesome!" he said enthusiastically.

I just shook my head, trying very hard not to smile. "Get in."

"In a sec. I gotta take a leak." True to his word, he walked around behind a boulder near the road to relieve himself. I didn't feel the need to tag along, since his head and shoulders remained in sight even though the large rock obscured the rest of him.

Wufei gave a wry snort. "At least _he's _pretending to really need to go, Yuy. Unlike you."

"So I wanted you to ease up on him," I shrugged. "Sue me."

A moment later, Maxwell jogged back to the car and clambered in, looking supremely pleased. "Thanks guys."

Wufei blinked, and glanced over at me with an almost puzzled expression.

I smirked back, and without turning around replied, "You're welcome, Maxwell."

* * *

We drove for nearly two hours through hills and forests, without seeing any sign of civilization. And when we passed a sign with a little fork and knife indicating a place to eat up ahead, I told Chang to take it.

"Might be our last chance out here," I observed.

He pulled the car into the dirt driveway with a restaurant sign, and drove to a small building that looked more like a house than a diner.

"Quaint," he commented shutting off the engine and looking around.

There was a low white building with a little hand-lettered sign saying "open," and a veritable riot of colored flowers in front. Crocuses and daffodils grew in profusion, brightening up what might have otherwise been a drab structure.

"Quaint" was a bit of an understatement. There was a bird bath in the middle of the garden, and several bird houses on posts scattered throughout…and a flagstone path led to the door of the restaurant.

To our right was a dusty parking area bordered by a tall fence, which surrounded a shed of some sort. Judging from the trough and racks in the enclosure, it contained some sort of livestock.

As we got out of the car, Maxwell pulled on his leather jacket and tucked his braid under it without being reminded. I suddenly recalled he'd done the same thing at our last gasoline stop, too, and I had to resist the urge to praise him like a child that did his homework without being told. As Wufei had pointed out, he was no kid, and certainly didn't need to be treated as one.

On the other hand…we hadn't gotten six paces from the car before Maxwell veered from our path and headed towards the fence.

"Maxwell!"

"Keep your shorts on, Yuy," he said without looking back, but also without any real attitude. "I gotta see what's in the—whoa! What the hell's _that_?"

He stopped in his tracks as a curious head poked out of the shed. Then the shaggy brown and white llama it belonged to meandered out, approaching the fence and craning his neck to reach over it, as if seeking attention.

"It's a llama," I told him.

"Careful, Maxwell. They _spit_," Chang said, with a rather hopeful smirk.

His words startled an involuntary chuckle out of me. "Why'd you warn him, Chang? It would've been hilarious." God—I'd have paid good money to see Maxwell get spit _on _for a change.

He turned uncertainly towards us, clearly doubting Chang's warning. "Seriously?"

Reluctantly, I nodded. "If you piss 'em off, they spit."

He gave an irrepressible grin. "Kinda like me."

I shot him a deadly glare, but he'd already turned back to face the curious animal, clearly wanting to approach it, but nervous about the "spitting" we'd mentioned.

About then, a little girl came out of the barn; she was carrying a bucket, and heading straight for the llama pen. She wore overalls and pigtails, and looked to be all of nine or ten years old, if that; but she paused and smiled brightly when she saw Maxwell.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting.

He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, and grinned back at her. "Hey."

"Ain't ya gonna pet him?" she asked, cocking her head to one side and gesturing to the llama, who'd turned his attention towards the girl and the bucket she carried.

"He won't spit?"

The girl giggled as if he'd said something tremendously funny. "Him? No. He's the friendliest llama we've got. An' even the timid ones hardly ever spit. Ya gotta really scare them or make them mad." She headed for the fence with her bucket in hand.

Maxwell darted a look at Chang and me—a cross between defiance and uncertainty—before following the girl, who'd set the bucket down out of reach of the eager llama.

"Here." She scooped up a double handful of grain and held it out to Maxwell.

"What do I do with that?"

"Feed it to him, silly!"

"Uh—how?"

"With your hands."

Chang and I sauntered closer as Maxwell was trying to talk the girl out of pouring her fistfuls of grain into his cupped hands.

"But what if he bites—?"

"He can't. He only has teeth on the bottom—and he only uses those for grazing. All you'll feel are his lips."

I looked warily at the animal, noticing the shaggy mop of hair that hung over one of his enormous, soulful eyes. He really was innocuous looking, for the most part, and the hairstyle reminded me vaguely of Maxwell's friend Barton.

"I'll spill it!" Maxwell was protesting, as the girl dragged him right up to the fence—within reach of the questing nose of the llama.

"It's okay. The chickens will eat anything that falls on the ground."

Sure enough, several glossy red hens were trotting eagerly across the yard, apparently anticipating Maxwell's spillage.

"But—but—my hands are dirty!"

Apparently that was his last card, because when the girl assured him the llama wasn't particular about germs, he held his hands out and closed his eyes, peering through slits as the llama delicately lipped the food from his hands.

"Hey, it—tickles," he said, looking down at the pig-tailed girl with relief.

"'Course it does. I told you he won't bite."

"You said 'can't,'" Maxwell reminded her.

She shrugged unrepentantly. "I s'pose he could. _Kind _of. But it wouldn't hurt." She refilled Maxwell's hands after the llama had licked them clean—or as clean as a llama's lips were. "You sure are afraid of animals."

"I'm not!" he protested. "But I never saw one of these before. Reminds me of the camels at my friend's circus—and frankly, camels are_ nasty_."

Now the little girl looked wide-eyed. "You've seen camels?"

"Yeah."

"Close up?"

"I got to ride one once," he said proudly.

"Wow."

Several more llamas, apparently realizing there was food in the offing, came trotting around from behind the barn, crowding together at the fence to beg for grain. Maxwell dug his hands into the bucket and headed over to feed them as well, while the girl went back to the barn for more grain.

Chang made a rude noise under his breath. "We'll be here all day, Yuy," he cautioned.

I had to admit, I was eager to get to the safe house. "Finish up, Maxwell!"

"Go ahead in," he replied, apparently settling in to feed every one of the greedy creatures.

"Not without you!" Chang snapped, walking over and taking a firm grip on Maxwell's arm, dragging him a few steps away from the questing noses of the hungry llamas.

"Hey, leggo!" Maxwell growled, jerking free and losing a handful of grain in the process.

"We don't have time for this!" Chang snapped back.

"For Christ's sake, it'll only take a few minutes!" retorted our witness, heading back towards the agitated group of animals, who were jostling each other to get closer to him.

"Grow up!" Chang snarled, grabbing Maxwell's arm again and literally yanking him away from the fence.

For fuck's sake—were they going to get into a fistfight out here?

Maxwell broke Chang's grip and took a couple of steps back, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Keep your fucking hands _off _me!" he growled.

The girl was coming back out, carrying a fresh bucket of grain, and I cleared my throat loudly. "Audience, _gentlemen_!" I snapped in warning.

Chang glanced at me, and Maxwell shoved him in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few feet. I vaguely registered that the animals in the pen were milling about restlessly and making odd noises.

And then the little farm girl yelled "Duck!"

To his credit, Maxwell dove for the ground, as a good, conscientious protected witness should; while Chang turned towards the girl, a hand dropping to his concealed gun as he looked for the threat.

But he was looking in the wrong place and when one of the agitated llamas spit, it took him squarely in the side of the head.

For one frozen moment in time, we all stared in shock.

And then Maxwell simply dissolved into hysterics, curling up on the ground and laughing so hard I didn't think he could breathe.

Fuck, but I wanted to join him. In fact, I doubled over, putting a hand over my mouth and nose and squinting my eyes shut to try to control the laughter. But it was no use.

"I swear to God, Yuy—if you laugh I'll kill you!" Chang snarled.

I just shook my head, refusing to look up.

Maxwell had apparently gotten a gulp of air, because he guffawed loudly, writhing on the grass and clutching his stomach. "Th-that's th-the _funniest _th-thing I've ever s-s-seen!"

About then a woman came dashing out of the diner, waving a dishcloth. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

I'd managed to push myself almost upright, and wiped the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket, my throat aching with the need to release the laughter I was choking back. But the sight of the pretty blonde woman wiping the llama spit from the side of Chang's head was too much, and I turned partially away, trying to hide the shaking of my shoulders.

"They _never _do things like that normally!" the woman was babbling. "Annie, I _told _you to grain them all before we open for breakfast. You _know _how they get about their food."

"Aw, mom—."

"It's not her fault," Wufei said stiffly, his voice so cold you could've used it to refreeze the polar ice caps. "My—friend there should have let your daughter alone with her chores." He gestured vaguely to the man still lying on the ground giggling helplessly and gasping for air.

Maxwell rolled over and struggled to his hands and knees; but every time he tried to look at Wufei, he bubbled over with laughter again and ended up slumping to the ground.

"Okay, it's not _that _funny!" Chang snapped. He took the cloth from the woman, nodding a painfully polite thanks, and walked over to grab Maxwell by the back of the collar and haul him to his feet.

With a little yelp that choked off as the fabric tightened around his throat, Maxwell made it upright, batting Wufei's hands away. "Yeah, it was!" he insisted, wheezing for breath. "God, Wuffers—your _face_, man—!" He shook his head. "I think I peed myself."

Chang stepped back, his horrified glance dropping to Maxwell's crotch.

The indigo-eyed man grinned wickedly. "Made ya look," he teased, walking over to me and throwing a companionable arm around my shoulders. "Let's go eat, Yuy. I'm starving!"

I thought of shrugging that arm off, but the gesture was so casual and relaxed that it didn't suggest anything overtly sexual or flirtatious, and considering that he was still almost breathless from laughing, I thought maybe Maxwell needed someone to lean on. Right?

Once we got inside, things settled down a bit. Wufei went to the washroom to clean up, and the woman who ran the diner finished apologizing and resumed her work. Maxwell calmed down and caught his breath, though it was obvious it wouldn't take more than a word to set him off again. Frankly, it wouldn't have taken much to set _me _off, either—and I carefully tried not to picture the incident again.

When Wufei slid into the seat across from me, his dark eyes just _dared_ me to comment.

"I ordered you some tea," I said flatly, keeping my voice steady and matter-of-fact.

"Thank you," he said stiffly.

Maxwell had apparently decided he enjoyed living; he didn't even try to bait my partner again. Instead he seemed quite fixated on the menu. "Fresh-baked?" he said with a faint smile. "Hey—they make all their own bread here."

Chang brightened at that, looking over his own menu. "So they do," he said with a pleased tone. "At last—some _real_ food."

He was right. There was fresh fruit on the menu, along with all sorts of freshly-made bakery products and the usual breakfast fare. It was definitely _not _a typical greasy-spoon joint.

"Doughnuts," Maxwell pointed out. "They make their own doughnuts."

"As if you need sugar," sighed my partner. "Doughnuts are nothing but fat, flour and sugar—disgusting."

Maxwell fixed both of us with a wide-eyed stare. "Don't all cops eat doughnuts?" he demanded.

I glared. "That's a stereotype, Maxwell. No. We don't all eat them."

"Don't like stereotypes?" he asked rather snidely. "Then how come you think all strippers are prostitutes? Ya wanna talk about a stereotype?"

"I don't want to talk about them at all," I replied, dropping my voice to an undertone as the woman came back to bring our drinks and take our orders. "Low profile, Maxwell."

I needn't have worried. The woman was much too busy fussing over Wufei and apologizing for the llama incident to even glance Maxwell's way—let alone mine. I hoped that assuaged my partner's fears that all women gravitated to gay men.

We had a lovely breakfast of fresh eggs, farm-raised ham, and farm-grown potatoes. It was exceptional. And while Chang and I both insisted we had no interest in doughnuts, we let Maxwell talk us into buying half a dozen to take with us on the rest of the trip. We also bought a couple of loaves of fresh bread, some jam to go with it (Maxwell's idea), and a still-warm pie.

All three of us were in better spirits as we left the cozy little farmhouse. And the woman hadn't even asked about our destination or reason for passing through. I can't imagine that we blended into that particular scenery; but she seemed unfazed by strangers, and not at all curious about us. Thank God for small favors.

On the way out, Maxwell jogged once more across the lot, reaching boldly over the fence to pat his new-found friend on the nose. He turned a smirk towards Wufei. "Hey, Chang-baby…wanna come say bu-bye?"

My partner's shoulders stiffened, and he raised his chin resolutely. "Very well."

"What?" I asked in shock. "Chang—."

Dark eyes turned a dangerous look my way. "I believe in facing my fears, Yuy. I won't let Maxwell lord this over me for the rest of our imprisonment with him."

Nice way to word it…imprisonment. Chang always did have an interesting turn of phrase. But I had to admit, I was impressed by the way he sidled up to the fence and cautiously allowed the llama to sniff his outstretched hand, before briefly scratching it behind the ears. He looked quite satisfied as he turned and headed back my way, having proved himself capable of shrugging off the unpleasant incident.

Maxwell was smirking as he sauntered along behind my partner and climbed back into the car. "Wake me when we get there," he said, yawning prodigiously and settling in among the suitcases and bags. He draped his long legs over a duffel bag, and stretched out as best he could. "Gonna fuckin' be great to sleep in a real bed again," he sighed before drifting off.

* * *

With our willful charge sound asleep, the rest of the drive passed uneventfully. We saw barely any signs of civilization, passing through one or two small villages and an occasional scattering of houses. And by noon, we were turning onto an unlabelled private road that led onto Winner's hunting preserve.

When we pulled up to what the lawyer had described as a cozy log cabin, even Wufei's jaw dropped in amazement. "That's Winner's idea of 'cozy'?" he blurted.

The place had to have at least three bedrooms, and was a showpiece of a home, with foot-thick logs for walls, and a wide porch running the full length of one side. There was a lovely view of the mountains from the porch, though I was fairly certain the place couldn't be seen from any roads.

"Defensible," I noted, eyeing the solid construction. "It has more windows than I'd like, but we can certainly do something about that…motion sensors or contact switches. Plus, there's a built-in alarm system."

I got out at the garage and keyed the pad for the automatic door opener. It rose to reveal a spacious, three-bay structure containing a gleaming silver SUV and a vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Gesturing Chang to drive in, I headed for the door to the house, hitting the switch to close the garage back up, and feeling an immediate sense of relief.

We'd made it to safety—at least for the time being.

I heard the engine shut off while I was deactivating the alarm system Winner had mentioned, and then I stepped into a mud room leading into a roomy kitchen. The place was simple, and yet had the finest of materials and handiwork in its construction, and I winced a little, hoping we didn't have to worry too much about messing anything up. I know Winner had insisted on us using it—but I doubted he'd appreciate any damage.

"Holy Hell," came an awed whisper behind me. "Quat wasn't shittin' me about this place," Maxwell commented, strolling in and tossing his backpack and one of his duffel bags into the corner. "Ve-rry nice. I could get comfy here."

"We're guests," Chang said curtly, arriving with some more of our luggage. "Don't plan on making yourself at home."

Maxwell turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Afraid I'm not fuckin' housebroken?" he asked snidely.

"_Are_ you?" came the arch response.

"Bite me, Chang," Maxwell shot back, stalking off down the hallway to go exploring.

"Well, somebody woke up grumpy," noted my partner.

I didn't even want to know what might have transpired in the car after I got out.

"Let's unload only the essentials for now, and check in with the Captain," I suggested. "Then we can do a complete security survey and plan how we're going to work this—what kind of shifts we'll take, what supplies we'll need, and where and how we're going to restock them."

"While we're at it, we should instruct Maxwell on staying inside, and having one of us within earshot at all times…the usual."

Oh, that sounded like fun.

Just then, our witness came sauntering back into the kitchen, waving a small remote control. "We got cable!" he said happily. "Wide screen, high def. The whole shootin' match. I'm gonna have to thank Quat for this." His indigo eyes settled on me with a sly look. "Thanks to you, I know just what he might like, too." Smirking wickedly, he headed for the garage, hips swaying suggestively as he walked.

"Where are you going?" Chang demanded, onyx eyes stern.

"To check out the Harley," came the reply. "That is one sweet-looking machine!" Maxwell paused in the doorway of the mud room. "Y'think Quat would mind if I took it for a ride?"

"Yes!" Chang and I snapped in unison.

A laugh echoed behind him as Maxwell disappeared into the garage.

"Tell me there are no keys for that—thing," Chang begged.

"Winner said they're in the breadbox," I shrugged, walking over and opening it. Sure enough, there they were. I stuffed them into my pocket immediately, leaving the SUV keys where they were. "No worries," I told my partner.

He just gave a skeptical snort.


	16. Safe at Last

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixteen: Safe at Last

It didn't take us long to bring in our essentials from the car. We left the camping gear and emergency stuff packed, figuring we'd only need them if for some reason we were forced to flee our sanctuary.

And I seriously did not want to have to do that.

I was making a visual inventory of the refrigerator when Chang came walking into the kitchen from the hallway. "Three bedrooms and two full baths," he told me. "I see no reason for us to use the master bedroom. There are two side by side; one can be Maxwell's, and since only one of _us_ will be sleeping at any given time, you and I can share."

Maxwell had walked in for the last statement, and gave us both a rather leering smile. "One of you could share with me." His evil grin widened. "Or maybe you both could…if you ask nice."

My partner pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge Maxwell. "What is the status of our food supply?" he asked me.

I swallowed quickly, dragging my mind back up out of the gutter it had leapt into…the one containing me, Maxwell, and a bed. _Goddamn, but he was distracting!_

"Aside from the drinks and snacks we brought with us, there's plenty of bottled water—some canned goods in the pantry—and a few frozen dinners that appear to have not yet reached their expiration dates. No more than a couple of days' worth of food."

"I thought as much." Wufei plopped the map down on the counter. "There are two decent-sized cities within an hour's drive. At least one of them must have a large grocery store."

"One of us can make a run for supplies tomorrow," I told him. "We'll make due with what's here tonight."

"We've got pie," Maxwell pointed out, reminding me of the baked goods we'd picked up earlier. "And doughnuts."

I nodded acknowledgement, still not looking at him, in case so much as a trace of lust lingered in my eyes. "Pie will be a nice dessert," I agreed. "We can use the bread and some of the canned stew for dinner."

"I'll start making a list of what we'll need for an extended stay," Wufei offered.

"Hn," I grunted in reply. "Make it enough for a week, anyway. We shouldn't go shopping more often than that—less chance of being spotted."

"Aye."

While my partner worked on that, I went back to the car and pulled out the case containing some of my surveillance equipment.

"Whatcha got?" came a curious voice just behind my shoulder.

I jumped in surprise. How the hell had Maxwell followed me so quietly? "Just some security equipment," I told him. "I'm going to set motion sensors around the area; if anyone approaches this cabin, we'll have ample warning."

He leaned against the side of the car, his arms crossed in front of him. "They'd have to find us first," he pointed out. "I dunno about you—but I doubt anyone would think to look for me in the middle of nowhere."

"I hope that's true."

He was still watching me as I flipped open the case and did a quick visual survey of the contents, and I finally looked up questioningly. "Is there something you want?" I asked. I was sorry the minute the words left my mouth, realizing he could twist them any number of ways.

But he merely shrugged, looking a bit uncertain. "Chang said we're an hour away from any big city, right?" At my nod, he continued. "Is there _anything _to do around here? Like—anywhere to go—at all?"

"Such as—?"

"Movie theatre? Pool hall? Restaurant? Gym?"

"It's a hunting lodge, Maxwell," I sighed. "If it were near a town big enough to have those types of diversions, there'd be no wildlife to hunt."

"Yeah, but there'd be plenty of night life," came the ready quip. "And like I said, I'm a night person."

"For the next few weeks, you'll just have to cope," I told him frankly. "Even if there were places to go, you couldn't."

"Why not?"

"The point of a 'safe house' is to keep you safe," I said, beginning to lose my patience. "If you were to go out, you'd be at risk."

He frowned, beginning to catch on to the level of security I was talking about. "Are you saying I can't leave here at _all_?"

"Maybe it's time we discussed those 'rules' I mentioned before," I said evenly, snapping the case shut. "Let's go inside."

His expression was wary, and I caught a hint of a storm gathering in the deep eyes. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm about to—inside." I gestured him ahead of me, and he pushed away from the car, walking slowly with his head bent in thought. I had a feeling he wasn't going to like the upcoming conversation.

Not that I particularly cared whether he agreed with our security precautions. The point was to keep him alive and hidden—with or without his approval.

"Chang—we need to talk," I said peremptorily, as Maxwell and I got back inside.

My partner looked up expectantly, and I set the case aside before pulling a chair up to the kitchen table and gesturing Maxwell to be seated.

He flopped gracelessly into the chair, throwing an arm across the back and stretching his legs out, glaring up at me with stubborn defiance.

"Here's the deal, Maxwell. Chang and I are responsible for your safety. Nothing but nothing will jeopardize that." I glanced at Chang, who nodded agreement. "In order to keep you safe, we'll be taking turns sleeping, monitoring surveillance devices, and walking patrols to check the area around the cabin."

Maxwell made a sarcastic saluting gesture, a sneer curling his lip.

"This isn't a game," I warned him, irked by the flippant attitude. "I'd think having Barton's car blown up would have conveyed that message to you."

"It did," came the rather sullen reply, and he looked uncomfortably away.

I guessed that he didn't like being reminded of the near-miss. But as I said before, his likes and dislikes weren't that important at the moment.

"Good," I said curtly. "Then you'll understand and abide by the following rules. Number one is, Chang or I must know your whereabouts at all times. Whether you're watching t.v., sleeping, eating, or taking a shit, you'll tell one of us first, so we know where exactly you are inside the house."

"So you _are_ gonna hold my dick for me…" he wisecracked.

"No—but I'm gonna know when _you're _holding it," I retorted, managing not to blush.

"I'll be sure to tell you when I wanna jerk off, okay?" he said snidely. "Might even let you watch."

"Stop clowning around, Maxwell!" snapped my partner. "Neither Yuy nor I need to put up with your harassment. We're here to do our jobs."

"Fine. _Do _them!" Maxwell growled. "Just fuckin' stop lecturing me about them." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I understand you want to know where I am. I'll tell you if I'm taking a walk in the woods—I'll even leave a trail of breadcrumbs for Christ's sake."

"No walks," I said quickly. "You're not stepping foot off the porch, Maxwell."

"I know—not without my loyal watchdogs—."

"Not at all." I crossed my arms resolutely. "We'll have the perimeter monitored. We can't risk having you go beyond it—or even close to it. You'll stay indoors, or out on the porch. You can get all the fresh air you like without being exposed to view from beyond my sensors."

He gave me a flat, assessing look. "You mean I can't even stroll around the yard? Take a little hike?"

"Maxwell, I highly doubt you're much of a hiker," Chang observed.

"No—but I need to do _something _for exercise, or I'll get cabin fever inside of a week." He looked up with a scowl. "Ever seen 'The Shining?'"

God, why did everything with him have to be such a tug of war?

"You're not going to get cabin fever, Maxwell. You'll have television to entertain you. Weren't you all excited about cable?"

"That was before I knew it would be my sole entertainment for the rest of my miserable life," he groused, fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes.

"Can we move on to some other rules?" Chang asked quickly. "For instance—no smoking in the house?"

Maxwell opened his mouth to object, but I beat him to it. "You can smoke by the fireplace, Maxwell, where there's a little updraft to take away the odor. And smoking out on the porch would be fine. But there's no smoking in your bedroom—we don't need to risk a fire. And honestly, no one wants to smell stale cigarette smoke in the kitchen or bathroom."

"Whatever." He stuffed the pack back into his pocket, scowling deeply.

"We're going to keep the car packed and ready to leave at all times," I told him. "Aside from a small bag that can be grabbed in an emergency, we aren't going to bring stuff into the house."

"You seriously expect someone to find us, don't you?" Maxwell asked in disbelief.

"You yourself pointed out the precinct has leaks," I reminded him. "Who's to say someone won't overhear more than they should? As careful as my communication with the Captain was yesterday, her secretary knew about it."

"Relena?" asked Chang, perking up a bit. "How was she?"

"Fine," I replied flatly. "Nosey."

The onyx eyes narrowed fractionally. "She's always nosey where you're concerned, Yuy. You _know _how she feels about you."

Maxwell turned a questioning look my way. "Got a girlfriend, Yuy?" _Was it my imagination, or did he look—disappointed?_

Chang snorted. "In spades, Maxwell. She's Chief Darlian's daughter. And she'd do damn near anything for Yuy."

—_except mind her own damn business._

"Ah." I couldn't read Maxwell's expression at all, as he added, "S'that how you made 'detective?'"

"No!" I snarled.

"Wouldn't be the first person who slept their way to the top," Maxwell pointed out.

"Speaking from experience?" I retorted.

He glared and subsided into sulking silence.

"That reminds me," I added. "No phone calls, Maxwell…to anyone…ever. If you need to talk to Winner, I'll arrange it on our cell set-up. A regular cell phone won't work out here; but we brought a booster to up the power and allow us to bounce the signal off a satellite. The battery life is limited, so we'll have to keep calls infrequent and very brief."

"Wonderful."

I looked over at Chang. "Did I forget anything important?"

"Just this—," my partner said, sitting up and fixing an intent look on our witness. "If there's any kind of attack, and Yuy or I tell you what to do, you don't hesitate, and you don't question us. A delayed reaction could cost you your life."

Maxwell gave a derisive snort. "Got a news flash for ya, Changie. _I'm _not the one who wasn't quick enough to duck llama-spit."

Chang's face darkened at the reminder. "I wasn't trying to duck. Fool that I am, I was more concerned with protecting your worthless, miserable, whoring hide!" He pushed away from the table, and stood up. "I'm going to walk the perimeter, Yuy."

He stalked away, and I fixed a stern look on Maxwell. "If I were you, I'd go easy on baiting him."

"Yeah—black belts an' all that shit." The braided man pulled his cigarettes back out of his pocket, standing up and stretching. "Guess I'll go sit by the fireplace so I can smoke. Any other big, bad rules—_Master_?"

I darted a look at him, catching a provocative gleam in the indigo eyes. Once again, images of all the situations that might crop up involving him calling me something like that assailed me, and I had to concentrate to keep the bland look on my face. "I'm not sure you'll be able to obey the few we've already established, Maxwell. Why push it?"

He gave a wry snort and sauntered into the living room, while I headed out to catch up to Chang, bringing my case of surveillance devices along.

* * *

I overtook him at the tree line. "Hold up a minute, Chang! I want to start locating mini-cams and motion sensors."

He turned with a raised eyebrow. "Where the hell did you get things like that, Yuy?"

"Family heirlooms," I said deadpan, giving a shrug.

My partner's dark eyes narrowed. "What did you say your father did for work?"

"I told you—security." I opened the case and took out a small, weather-proof mini-cam. It was shaped kind of like an oversized eyeball, and in fact, sort of resembled one. There was a tiny loop on the top, with a very thin wire attached so I could hang the device from any handy post, tree limb, or hook.

"Pretty high-tech security," noted Wufei, picking up one of the little motion sensors and examining it.

"Very," I admitted. And since we were sharing information, I decided to ask for some of my own. "You want to tell me why Maxwell gets under your skin so much?"

He gave a derisive snort. "Can't you see for yourself? He's rude, uncouth, and classless. Plus, he pushes me."

"He pushes because you react."

"And you don't?"

"Not as much."

"I'll try not to let him know how irritating he is," came the insincere response.

"You've always hated gang-bangers," I commented casually, thumbing the power switch and placing the camera on a tree limb that overlooked the driveway and approach to the cabin. "I mean—more than any other perps, they seem to aggravate you."

He scowled, as we started walking along the edge of the yard, examining the terrain and the next likely spot for a sensor. "They do more harm than any other type of criminal, Yuy. They glamorize crime, and they recruit children into the same lifestyle." He gave me a burning look from dark eyes. "Look at the statistics. Most gangs consist of juveniles. They frequent school yards, parks, movie theatres, and malls. They associate with decent kids and drag them into the same life of drug dealing, whoring, stealing, and killing." He shook his head. "At least Khushrenada doesn't seduce children into a life of crime."

"No, he just pays the gangs to do it for him," I reminded my partner. "Without his kind of manipulation, the kids in gangs would just be thugs, bullies, and junkies. He makes them into transporters and dealers of drugs; he gives them the weapons they use in their crimes, and the financial incentive to continue. He promotes them from street-corner hustlers to genuine criminals."

"I understand that, Yuy. And I'm not trying to say he's not culpable. Why do you think I'm tolerating Maxwell? He can destroy Khushrenada." He shook his head. "But the gangs will still be out there harming innocent children. And what will we do about them? What will we do about common street trash like Maxwell?"

"I consider that 'clean-up' work after Khushrenada's gone," I said firmly. "Once his empire's broken, we can clean up more neighborhoods than ever. We _can _do something about the gangs."

"And that's why I'll endure this assignment," Chang said firmly.

I had a passing urge to insist that Maxwell _wasn't_ common street trash—that he was at least employed, or had been, and that he'd apparently outgrown the need to run with a gang. But it wasn't my job to defend him, especially in view of the fact that it was unlikely to matter to my partner. And honestly, I wasn't sure he wouldn't go right back to a life of crime after this whole fiasco ended.

I paused to place a motion sensor in a spot where a game trail meandered out of the woods, reflecting that Wufei still hadn't told me why he personally disliked gang members. All he'd said was vague, generalized cop-talk; it meant nothing. It was what any of us might have pointed out.

Chang had a very obvious, very personal hatred that was evident in his every word and gesture. And before this assignment was over, I wanted to know what it was. In fact, if I thought it might jeopardize our protection of Maxwell—I'd drag it out of him on the spot. But for the moment, there was no reason to start a major altercation.

"Yuy? Why don't you show me how some of these work, so I can be of more help?" asked my partner, jarring me from my thoughts.

Well, why not? It would save me a lot of setup time, and having left Maxwell alone inside Winner's cabin, I was in something of a hurry.

With Wufei's help, I got several more sensing devices placed around the house and grounds, and then we hurried inside to check that they worked, and to make sure our rebellious witness hadn't tried any shenanigans.

The sound of music greeted our entrance, and I went to the living room, only to find the television on some sort of a music video channel, and Maxwell sprawled across the couch soundly asleep.

Once again he looked small and young, with the remote dangling from limp fingers and a plush pillow clutched in his arms.

I heard a heavy sigh at my shoulder. "If only he were like this all the time," commented Wufei, before heading into the kitchen.

I walked over to take a quilt off the back of the couch and spread it carefully over our sleeping charge, and as I tucked it in around his shoulders, I found my hand straying to brush the unruly hair from his forehead.

_Jesus! _I jerked away quickly, the silky feeling of the chestnut wisps still lingering on my fingertips as I walked briskly out to where Chang was waiting.

"You didn't wake him?" he asked with a worried look.

"Heaven forbid," I said dryly, opening up the laptop and keying in a sequence to start the setup of the surveillance program.

"Time to call the Captain?" Wufei asked, taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator and setting one in front of me.

"Good idea. The cell phone booster is still in the trunk." I tossed him the keys and resumed my work.

Moments later, he had set up the device and was dialing the precinct and punching in the extension for Po's direct line. I glanced up to catch what I could of the conversation.

"Chang here," he said curtly, a faint smile touching his lips. I heard a raised voice on the other end of the line, though I couldn't distinguish words. "Sorry, sir…but we only recently got settled, or we'd have called sooner. He _did _tell you to allow twenty-four hours, did he not?"

Wufei glanced at me with a smirk, and then rolled his eyes at something the Captain said. "Honestly, I _do _know how long twenty-four hours can seem!"

Oh God, was _that _ever true!

"No trouble at all. We are in a secure location, setting up our defenses. I anticipate no hazards at this time."

I gave a curt nod of agreement, beginning to feel a slow release of tension as I checked each motion sensor and monitoring device and found them functioning properly.

"When shall we check in again?" Chang listened, nodded, and practically saluted the damned phone. "Yes, sir. I'll relay the message. Chang out."

I couldn't resist giving him a slightly sardonic look. "Message? Dare I hope she was saying it's all over—Khushrenada confessed, and we can all go home now?"

He just snorted. "You're a dreamer, Yuy. She said they've received a tip from an informant about an increase in the bounty, and that she'll contact you via e-mail once she has the complete update. We're to check in at 1700 hours tomorrow, on-line, to save the cell phone power pack."

"Did she say how much of an increase?"

"No, though I got the impression that now that Khushrenada's realized Maxwell's nowhere to be found, he's ready to up the ante substantially."

"Great."

While Maxwell dozed, Chang and I made canned soup for lunch, and did a complete walk-through of the cabin, planning our daily security routine. And then my partner took a brief nap, while I did an on-line search of the area in which we were located, tracking down big-chain grocery stores where we might shop without drawing attention like we would at the local markets.

Then I searched the news feeds for headlines of concern—my gaze immediately drawn to a story about the Merquise murder investigation. Apparently the news hounds had figured out there was a witness—which came as no surprise, considering word was out on the street before we even whisked Maxwell away from the hospital. But beyond that, they didn't seem to have much about our primary suspect. I had to give Captain Po a lot of credit for managing to keep a lid on the information that we were investigating Khushrenada. She had to have worked her ass off to accomplish that.

At five o'clock, I woke Chang and we threw together a meal before I reluctantly went into the living room to rouse our night owl.

He sat up as I turned off the television and blessed silence settled in the room. "Hey—watcha doin'?" he asked drowsily, rubbing his eyes. "I was watchin' that—."

"You were sleeping," I pointed out. "And now it's time for you to come eat something." I tried not to stare at his sleep-mussed hair and half-lidded eyes, as he pushed off the quilt and stretched—his tee shirt riding up to expose a flat, toned stomach.

"Who covered me up?" he asked, yawning and rubbing a hand across his abs.

"Just come get some food," I growled, tearing my gaze away from the long, lean fingers and the flesh they were sliding across. He frowned up at me, and I hastily turned away and went back out to the kitchen, where Chang was placing bowls of stew on the table.

"How's Sleeping Beauty?" he quipped.

_Beautiful. _"Awake. On his way." I slid into an empty chair, and picked up my spoon. "After we eat, I'll catch a few hours of rest, if you think you can handle babysitting."

"Not a problem," he shrugged. "I'll just send him to his room if he gets troublesome."

Maxwell padded into the kitchen then, in bare feet and rumpled clothes. "Y'know—you two might not wanna keep talking about me like I'm not here, when I'm all of ten feet away."

"Wishful thinking," Wufei snipped, smirking in satisfaction.

Indigo eyes shot him a narrow look. "Right back atcha, Chang."

I sighed, eating a little faster, and hoping I could make my escape before their sniping got out of hand.

Maxwell plunked into the seat opposite me, stretching his legs out so his feet bumped against my ankles. "Oops—sorry," he said with an unrepentant smirk. He picked up his spoon, but paused with the first bite halfway to his mouth. "Hey, am I gonna get to talk to Quatre soon?"

"Probably not," I shrugged. "We'd have to have Captain Po set up a time he'd expect our contact, so no one else answers for him. And we won't be in touch with her for another twenty-four hours."

My partner scowled at the long-haired punk. "What do you need to talk to him about, Maxwell? He's a defense attorney, and you aren't a suspect any more."

"I wanted to find out how things are," admitted the braided man. "And—." He paused with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. "There was some paperwork he was gonna take care of for me."

Paperwork? I wondered what he was talking about. I knew he'd already signed a power of attorney, assigning Barton to take charge of his belongings and pack them up to be put into storage. What else would he need?

"I hope it's a will," Chang said curtly. "If I were in your shoes, that would be my first order of priority."

I was going to open my mouth and tell my partner to shut the fuck up and stop trying to scare our witness—that no one was going to die on _my _watch—but Maxwell beat me to it.

"No confidence in your abilities, Chang?" he asked snidely, his gaze sliding critically up and down the Chinese man. "Or are you planning to sell me out to Khushrenada yourself?"

Oh, ouch! Way to insult the honor of a man who considered it his most precious trait.

Chang's onyx eyes narrowed. "I'm a man of honor, Maxwell, or you wouldn't have gotten _this _far."

"I'm _not _a man of honor," came the mocking response. "Or I'd have been dead ten times over before I hit puberty."

"You say that as if you're proud of it."

"Not proud—but alive." Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "Problem with you is, you're so goddamned busy being proud, you don't even know how to live!" He pushed away from the table, picking up his bowl, spoon, and bread. "I'm gonna eat in the living room where it ain't so stuffy."

I rubbed my temples, and then quickly finished my meal. "I need to sleep, Chang. And maybe a couple of aspirin."

"Medicine cabinet in the bathroom," Wufei said smoothly. "I already took three."

I gave a weak laugh, and then took my dirty dishes to the sink to rinse out before heading down the hall to get my aspirin and go to the room Chang and I planned to share.

One thing I have to admit, the Winner family didn't skimp on comfort. My head barely hit the pillow before I was deeply, blessedly asleep.

* * *

I woke up to a moment of disorientation, before realizing where I was, and why I was there. When I got up and stumbled sleepily out into the hallway, I heard the shower running.

The clock said eleven, and I wondered what possessed Maxwell to take a shower at that hour of the night. But then, knowing his odd schedule of work and sleep, I had no idea what his timetable really looked like.

Chang was seated at the table, sipping a cup of coffee, and the smell indicated a fresh pot was keeping warm on the stove. "Sleep well?"

I shrugged, walking past him and pouring a cup. I swallowed half of it in a few gulps, savoring the bitter heat. "Okay, I guess. Between the traveling, setting up today, and Maxwell's attitude, I was pretty worn out."

"He's in the shower, in case you couldn't tell," came the wry response. Chang held up the sweaty tee shirt our witness had worn since leaving the hospital. "He treated me to the lovely sight of his bare chest as he flung this at me and told me if I wanted to watch him 'whack himself off' in the shower, now was my chance."

I grimaced at the scandalized expression on my partner's face. "I guess that was his way of checking in and informing you of his whereabouts?"

"So it would seem." He stood up and dropped the shirt onto the back of a chair. "I don't know how much of this I can take."

"I'll—try to minimize the time you're stuck with him," I offered, knowing I'd have to put up with just as much crude talk and flirting—if not more. But at least I didn't find it as completely repugnant as Chang did.

On the contrary—I was afraid I might enjoy it a bit too much. And even more afraid Maxwell might catch on to that fact.

"Wake me at six?" Wufei asked.

"Seven. That way you'll have almost eight solid hours of sleep. And I imagine Maxwell, being the night owl he is, will be headed for bed when you get up. That should keep the peace for one more day."

My partner took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm—sorry you're stuck playing peacemaker, Yuy. I'll try to—restrain myself, as much as possible."

I nodded, wishing he'd just tell me what lay behind his extreme aversion to gang members. But for the moment, I knew he'd do the best he could. One thing Chang had always excelled at was focus. So keeping his mind on protecting our witness was almost certain to minimize his irritation with him.

After he headed to bed, I opened up the laptop on the kitchen table to do a quick scan of the surveillance equipment, and breathed a sigh that it seemed to be functioning perfectly. I could choose a sensor or camera and bring up an image or status report with the click of a button. And that was a very comforting feeling.

I was so ensconced in my work that I didn't register the sound of the shower shutting off, or the opening and closing of the bathroom door.

But I definitely took notice when Maxwell walked into the kitchen in just a pair of tight leather pants, much like the ones in the picture hanging behind Noin's desk. With his characteristic catlike grace, he strolled past me, opening the fridge and rummaging in a drawer before straightening up with a bottle of water in hand. His damp braid swung across the small of his back, where droplets of water lingered, a couple trickling slowly down to disappear in the gap between his waistband and the valley of his spine.

I licked my suddenly-parched lips.

He caught the motion and turned towards me, an unpleasant gleam in his eyes. "See something you like, _Heero_?" he asked in a sultry, suggestive voice.

I tried to give him a scathing retort, but with my throat suddenly dry, I couldn't even swallow, let alone speak.

He set down the bottle and stalked closer, keeping his eyes locked with mine, until he stood by my chair. A lean hand clamped onto the armrest, swiveling the seat to face him, and he moved so he was straddling my legs, gently settling his weight onto my lap. He put one hand on either side of my head, gripping the back of my chair, and leaned in closer.

His lips were parted and he was breathing so hard—nearly panting—that I could feel his breath against my face. "Tell me what you _want_," he murmured, leaning in until our lips were brushing. "Y'want _me_—?"

_Fuck yes!_

"No!" I snapped sharply, putting a hand in the center of his bare chest and pushing. Yet even as I shoved hard enough to force him off my lap, I felt the smooth hardness of his muscles under my hand and a tingle of pleasure as his thighs slid down mine. He ended up in a heap on the floor, looking up at me with lust-filled eyes.

"What the _fuck _are you trying to do, Maxwell?" I demanded.

"That about sums it up," he said with a lopsided grin and a flash of irritation in the dark eyes. "Thought it'd help pass the time y'know—if we fucked."

"I'm not—. Not interested!" I spat harshly, angry at his advances and at my response to them.

His mocking gaze settled on my lap, and he smirked in satisfaction. "Parts of you are," he taunted, putting a hand on my knee as he scrambled to get up.

I slapped his arm away. "Keep your goddamned hands off me, or I'll kill you myself and collect the bounty Khushrenada's put on your head." I glared stonily at him. "I could fuckin' retire on what he's willing to pay for your death."

Maxwell brushed himself off, turning his back to me. And when I found my gaze riveted on the play of muscles across the lean, sinuous back, and the tattoos across his shoulder blade that I hadn't chanced to see before, I forcibly dragged my attention back to my laptop.

"When your brain catches up to your dick, Yuy, and you admit what you want, you know where to find me."

The quiet footsteps faded into the hallway, and I waited until I heard the bedroom door click shut before I let out the breath I'd been holding. Yeah, my body knew exactly what it wanted, in spite of my best efforts to convince it otherwise.

Why did Maxwell have to keep pushing? Even Relena knew enough to back off when I rebuffed her attempts to coax me into a date. So why did the brassy street kid not get the message? I wasn't interested in a quick fuck, no matter how gorgeous he was! My libido notwithstanding, I couldn't take him up on his meaningless offer, even if I wanted to. He was a witness—off limits. On top of that, I couldn't afford any distractions. My sole focus had to be on Maxwell's safety—not on his admittedly gorgeous ass.


	17. Pushed Too Far

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Seventeen: Pushed Too Far

The night had passed quietly enough; Maxwell stayed in his room, and I stayed in the kitchen, knowing better than to even poke my head in the door to check on him. He'd probably be sprawled naked across the bed with a "screw me Heero" sign in his hand.

Okay, that was a total fantasy—but not too far from the truth. I had no doubt that if I'd accepted his earlier offer, he'd have gone through with it.

I also had no doubt he'd make the offer again. And what scared me was that I didn't know how many times I could refuse it. The memory of his weight in my lap, the hot breath on my lips, and the damp warmth that emanated from his freshly-showered body kept me hard for hours, as I tried futilely to be more interested in the computer screen than in the tantalizing daydream.

I was never so glad to see the sun come up. I stood and stretched, adjusting my pants to ease the lingering pressure of arousal, and walked down the hall to tap on Wufei's door.

"Awake!" he called in response, and I heard shuffling noises that told me he was up and dressing.

While he pulled himself together, I went back out to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. Letting it brew, I pulled out Wufei's note pad and added green tea to the grocery list. Coffee was great stuff—but sometimes I preferred the mild taste of tea, and I knew my partner did as well. We deserved a little treat for all the hardship we'd endured.

"How was your night?" asked Chang, walking in looking refreshed and tidy, even in casual clothes.

"Fine. Maxwell stayed in his room—probably listening to the cd player, if the peace and quiet is any indication."

"Have you looked in on him lately?"

Oh. How to explain I was afraid of what I might find in that bedroom?

"Haven't heard a peep. I didn't want to push my luck," I joked weakly.

"Sure he didn't climb out the window and run off?" my partner quipped in return.

Now that he mentioned it—.

We both moved like lightning, striding quickly from the kitchen to the first door in the hallway. Chang didn't knock, but yanked the door open and stepped in.

The first place my eyes went was the open window, and I felt a jolt of panic.

And then I saw Maxwell, curled up on the bed with a cigarette in his hand, and a book spread out on the comforter, headphones on, and the faint sound of music escaping the edges.

As I was breathing an explosive sigh of relief, Chang stalked over and yanked away the offending cigarette. "What did we tell you about smoking?" he ranted, going to the window and lifting the screen so he could throw out the butt after snuffing it on the metal edge.

Maxwell pushed himself upright, tugging the earphones off. "Goddamnit, Chang! I didn't feel like having to haul my ass out to the living room, all right?" He glanced fleetingly at me, and then glared at my partner. "You two are shit for company, and I didn't want to have to deal with either one of you."

I rolled my eyes. Had my refusal of his advances hurt his precious feelings that much? "We established the rules yesterday, Maxwell," I reminded him.

"_You _established the rules—and crammed them down my throat!"

"It's not our cabin, or yours. It's simple courtesy to keep the smoke to a minimum."

"I opened the window so it wouldn't stink up the room," he pointed out.

Chang slammed the window shut and locked it. "That's another thing!" he snarled. "Leaving a window open is an invitation. Do you really _want _to provide easy access to a potential attacker?"

Our witness pushed himself up off the bed, fists clenched at his sides. "Jesus Christ! I grew up on the fucking streets, Chang! I ran with a gang. I could scrap with the best of 'em. And then I worked as a bodyguard. Do you seriously think I can't defend myself at _all_?"

"I seriously think you're the stupidest, most stubborn witness I've ever had to deal with!" spat my partner. "What will it take to get you to cooperate?"

"Take the fuckin' stick out of your ass, and stop trying to _change _me! Give me a fuckin' inch of _room _to breathe!"

"You won't be breathing at all if Khushrenada has his way."

"Yeah, well, he could hardly stifle me any more than you two!" snarled Maxwell. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the night stand. "I'm going to finish my smoke by the goddamned fireplace." He stalked out, and I sighed wearily.

Chang darted me a sharp look. "I know. I was supposed to try harder, wasn't I?"

I merely shrugged, too tired after a long night of monitoring the perimeter to argue. "I'm just relieved we didn't find an empty room," I said frankly.

My partner's gaze went to the window, and a thoughtful look settled on his face. "Now that you mention it—maybe we should do something to ensure Maxwell can't sneak out."

I gave a wry chuckle. "Short of nailing the windows shut from the outside…" My voice trailed off as our eyes met in sudden realization and agreement.

"I'll get on it after breakfast," Chang promised. "Can you keep him busy enough to not notice what I'm up to?"

"I'll let him walk the perimeter with me. That should keep his attention off you for an hour or so. Just try to keep the noise to a minimum."

"I saw an electric screwdriver in the garage. I could use that, and then Winner would be able to remove the screws at a later date with a minimum of damage."

"Perfect," I agreed. "Now let's go eat so I can take Maxwell out for his walk." And yes, I deliberately phrased that to make him sound like a pet who needed to be walked.

It got a smirk from Wufei. "Of course."

* * *

Since we had a limited supply of food, breakfast consisted of coffee, toast, granola bars, and doughnuts. I had toast, while Chang ate a granola bar. And when Maxwell wandered in and headed for the coffee pot, my partner slid the plate of doughnuts over to him.

Glancing warily at Chang, the braided man picked up a fat jelly doughnut. He took a bite, catching a glob of filling as it oozed out the opposite end, and sucking it off his finger.

I closed my eyes, trying not to groan aloud. At the rate I was going, I'd have to take a shower for the sole purpose of masturbating. It was for damn sure I couldn't get away with it anywhere else in the house…not with two roommates.

When I dared to look up again, Maxwell was on his third doughnut, and Wufei was busy scribbling more things on the rapidly growing grocery list.

"Maxwell—if you'd like a breath of fresh air, you could help me with my perimeter survey after breakfast," I said, making it sound casual.

He looked surprised, pausing in mid-bite. "Y'gonna let me outside?" he asked in disbelief.

"We discussed it after you left, and decided it might be a good idea," I told him, borrowing enough of the truth to sound sincere.

His smile almost made me feel guilty. "Yeah, it would," he assured me. "I need the exercise." He made a vague gesture to the dwindling plate of doughnuts.

Chang gave a short laugh, and shook his head. "It's amazing you stay so thin eating garbage like that, Maxwell."

The sly indigo eyes turned his way, and a smirk curled the full lips of our witness. "Why Wuffers—I didn't think you noticed," he crooned in a teasingly sultry voice, half-closing his eyes. "Maybe you've been watching my ass as much as Quatre has, hm?"

Chang turned a lovely shade of beet red, and he sputtered indignantly, lost for words.

Maxwell immediately went for the throat. "Want a closer look?"

"No!" My partner stood quickly, shoving his chair back so fast it bounced against the wall. "I have things to do," he added, heading for the garage—and the electric screwdriver, no doubt.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "See if _he _ever gives you a compliment again."

Maxwell's return smile lacked the sarcastic edge I was used to seeing. "He deserved that," he said with surprising frankness. "He's such a fucking prude!"

"What does that make you?" I countered, unable to resist. "A slut?"

"Only if you want me to be," he riposted smoothly, turning that heated gaze on me.

I felt warmth creep up my face, and saw the glimmer of satisfaction in the indigo eyes. "All I want you to be is a good, well-behaved little witness, Maxwell."

"Hm. Maybe you're a prude too," he sniffed disdainfully.

I stood up and downed the rest of my coffee in a gulp. "Let's just get to work."

* * *

I made sure to keep plenty of distance between us as we headed outside, though it wasn't hard when Maxwell eagerly strode ahead of me to explore the yard. I let him meander around a bit, checking out the landscaping and plant life, before suggesting we start our work.

When we got to the foot of the driveway, he found the hanging camera before I even pointed it out, since the sun was gleaming off the metallic surface. "What's this?"

"Mini-cam," I said shortly, picking it up and examining the exterior for damage. "Has a three-hundred and sixty degree view."

Maxwell turned a suspicious look my way. "I never knew cops had that kind of technology. Looks more like CIA shit."

"It's mine," I said with a noncommittal shrug.

"How'd you get it? You an inventor or something?"

I paused, scowling at him. "What difference does it make?"

"I just wondered," he shrugged, looking mildly affronted. "Sheesh…ya try to make conversation…"

"Don't."

I heard a muttered "asshole," before he subsided, sauntering over to look at the daffodils poking out of the soil by the driveway. That kept him occupied while I repositioned the camera just slightly, wanting a better angle for my surveillance.

Then I was ready to move on to the motion sensors. "Maxwell—."

He straightened, looking a bit sullen, and followed me to our next check point. "This is boring," he said flatly, watching as I raised the sensor a few inches.

"It's security," I replied. "When it alerts us to a prowler, you'll be glad it's here."

"How much motion will it detect?"

He seemed to gain interest as I showed him how the width of the sensor range could be adjusted with the turn of a tiny jeweler's screwdriver. "I could narrow it down to a one-inch band of coverage, or leave it to detect movement in a full hundred and eighty degree swath."

"What about the vertical?"

"That's why I set them at different heights. If I leave them wide open, a fucking leaf fluttering in a breeze could trigger them. And along a game trail, I have to set them higher than a deer's back, or risk having false alarms all night."

"Complicated," he commented.

"Not really. It just requires a bit of planning…knowledge of subject."

He chuckled wryly. "Another mission."

I shrugged. "Guess you could call it that."

We spent over an hour on the various devices along the boundary of the clearing, but as we made our way from the front of the house towards the back, I glimpsed Chang rounding the corner with a tool bag in his hand. Unfortunately so did Maxwell.

"What's Wu-baby doing?"

"Checking windows—house security."

Maxwell shot me a wary look. "Making sure I can't sneak another cigarette in my bedroom?"

"Making sure no one can gain access without alerting us," I said vaguely. "Here. Make yourself useful." I pushed a sensor and the screwdriver into his hands, eager to divert his attention. "Three half-turns to the right on that little screw there."

He followed the instructions to the letter, and then held it out to me. "Somehow, this wasn't how I pictured you an' me screwing," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes, realizing how neatly I'd set myself up.

"I take it Wuffers doesn't know you're gay."

"I'm not!" I blurted reflexively.

"Oh, right. That bulge in your pants last night was what—my imagination?"

"You must've been dreaming," I muttered defiantly, heading for the next motion sensor.

"Wet dreaming," he purred, jogging to keep up.

"Well do it with someone else," I said curtly, not looking at him, but focusing on my task.

"There _is _no one else," he pouted, edging into my personal space just enough to make me drop both the screwdriver and the sensor.

"Fuck!" I hissed, looking down at the tall grass in dismay.

"My sentiments exactly."

I turned to face him, my temper flaring. "Goddamnit, Maxwell! I'm not interested! I don't know how many times or ways I have to say that! Now get the fuck out of my way so I can find what I dropped!" I shoved him bodily aside, dropping to my knees to sift through the grass in search of the very small screwdriver. I wouldn't miss the sensor that much—but I didn't have a spare adjustment tool.

"You're a bigger asshole than your partner, Yuy," I heard from behind me. "At least he's just a prude—not a liar!" His footsteps faded away, and I glanced over my shoulder as he reached the porch and stomped up the steps.

I didn't know or care whether Chang had finished securing the windows—at least not until I'd found the elusive screwdriver, and amazingly, the thumbnail-sized sensor. Then I quickly finished my job and headed inside to check on Maxwell's whereabouts and Chang's success.

The braided man was on the couch watching television again, and didn't even look up as I walked across his line of sight and into the kitchen.

Wufei was sipping a cup of coffee and looking a bit smug as he continued the grocery list.

"I take it you finished?" I asked, pouring myself a cup.

"All secure," he replied smoothly. "And he's none the wiser. I anchored every window a person might use for access—in _or _out. Why don't you catch a couple of hours of sleep? I'll wake you when I'm ready to leave for the grocery store."

"Wake me before that," I told him. "I need a shower before you go; I can't very well take one and watch Maxwell at the same time."

Wufei smirked irrepressibly. "He might argue that point."

I gaped at him. "I don't believe you just said that."

"I know," he sighed. "But it popped into my head and I couldn't resist. I think we've been around him too long—he's starting to rub off."

"That's a scary thought."

"Isn't it?"

I tried not to dwell on that conversation as I made my way to the bedroom and sacked out for a couple of hours. And although I was afraid I would be unable to sleep, I dozed off almost immediately.

* * *

The next thing I knew, Chang was shaking me awake. "C'mon, Yuy. If you get up now, you can shower while I make an early supper. The Captain will be e-mailing at 1700 hours, and I'll leave to go get food right afterwards."

"Where's Maxwell?"

"Asleep on the couch again. I turned down the noise and left him resting."

"Maybe you should put sleeping pills on that grocery list," I joked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "He seriously is much easier to supervise when he's unconscious."

"Yes, but he might notice if we start to spike his food with sedatives."

"And he might not."

I made my shower a quick one; and no, I didn't need to—relieve myself. That urge had dissipated since I put some distance between Maxwell and me. Not that it wouldn't be back in spades the next time he purred out a suggestive comment; but for the moment, I was in control again.

When I got to the kitchen, Chang was dishing up a dinner of canned hash and green beans, and I breathed a silent prayer that this would be our last such meal.

"Get some fresh vegetables, would you?" I asked, as I choked down the canned ones.

"You couldn't stop me if you tried," my partner quipped. "I think the one thing Maxwell and I have agreed on is that this place has a poorly stocked pantry. He ate a little earlier—said something about preferring his own company to ours."

"If only," I sighed.

"I thought I'd take Winner's SUV to the store. He _did _say it was all right to use it, didn't he?"

"Absolutely. And there's no point in exposing that rental car any more than necessary. You can top off the tank for him—I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Once we'd eaten, Chang went to check out the SUV, while I moved the laptop into the study just off the kitchen so I could hook up to the internet. I logged a quick message to Po to alert her to the server I'd be on for our communication, pausing when I heard a sharp clatter in the living room.

Curious, and wary, I went to the door and looked across to where the couch was, only to see Maxwell staring at the television screen, his face taut with pain, and the controller on the floor beside the couch.

"What the—?" I followed his gaze to the screen, where they were showing a vid-clip of Zechs Merquise's funeral.

Shit.

_\ In today's top story, Zechs Merquise was laid to rest at Peacemillion Cemetery in a private ceremony. The man who owned half the downtown club district, and was reputed to be involved in an underground crime syndicate, was found shot to death in his penthouse apartment last week. /_

A picture of Merquise went up on the screen, showing a man with ice-blue eyes, sleek platinum hair, and a perfect smile making his way through an admiring crowd outside one of his nightclubs.

I spared a glance at Maxwell, watching the play of genuine emotion across his face as the camera tracked his deceased lover. I didn't need Winner's empathic nature to perceive the very real grief in the indigo eyes, or catch the slight hitch of breath and the convulsive swallow.

\ _Sources in the police department are keeping very quiet about the case, but word on the street is that multimillionaire Treize Khushrenada is suspected of involvement in the murder. He and Merquise were business associates and federal investigators have been trying for years to connect their jointly-owned enterprises to organized crime. /_

Maxwell gave a skeptical snort, sounding more like himself. "Yeah, that'll be the day."

I walked closer, curious now. "Why? What do you know about the Oz syndicate?"

"I know they launder money with the best of 'em," he shrugged.

"How?"

Shrewd indigo eyes fixed a calculating look on me. "You looking for more out of me than a murder charge against Khushrenada?" He shook his head. "Sorry, detective, but all I know about the money laundering is hearsay." He gave an almost wistful smile. "Pillow talk, y'know." His gaze went back to the screen as they showed a video clip of the funeral, with a small box in the corner of the picture still displaying Merquise's regal face.

I had to admit—the man _was _gorgeous.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Maxwell sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at them with his fingers, as if he were tired.

I opened my mouth, on the verge of commenting on Merquise's lifestyle, but that would have been an awfully low blow, considering how obvious Maxwell's pain was. Instead I found myself saying something totally out of the blue. "He had lovely hair."

Maxwell's head swiveled around, and he fixed a wide-eyed look on me.

I shrugged slightly, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, hell…you've got to admit it's eye catching."

A hint of a smirk curled Maxwell's lips, and his eyes brightened. "Soft, too. It was like silk—spun silk." His voice trailed off dreamily, and then he kind of shook himself, like a dog coming out of the water. His smirk widened into an evil grin. "So—does the illustrious Detective Yuy have a little hair fetish?" He tossed his braid over his shoulder, giving me a sultry, half-lidded look.

"I do _not_," I said firmly, trying not to let my gaze follow the heavy rope of chestnut hair as it slithered across his back.

He crossed his arms on the back of the couch, resting his chin on them. "I think you do," he cooed sweetly. He put a hand to the nape of his neck, drawing the braid slowly around to the front and holding it out. "Wanna touch it?" he asked huskily.

"No!" I blurted, taking a step back and crossing my arms resolutely.

"You _know _you wanna touch it," he crooned in that same low, suggestive tone he'd used in the car, and on my lap. He looked up at me from under his lashes, lips parted and his cheeks faintly flushed. "C'mon and touch it, Yuy…touch _me_," he challenged, pushing up to his feet and climbing over the back of the couch to stalk towards me.

I backed two more hasty steps, only to collide with a hard chest as my partner walked into the room.

"Goddamnit, Yuy! Watch where you're going!" Wufei's hands settled on my shoulders, shoving me forward, away from him—almost directly into Maxwell's arms. But I was able to twist aside at the last second, sidestepping the braided man and darting a glare at my partner.

Maxwell's eyes fairly sparkled with mirth, though a flicker of what looked like resentment flashed through them. "Aw—Wuffers," he pouted. "You ruined my fun."

"I am not 'Wuffers,'" he snarled at Maxwell, onyx eyes ablaze with anger. "It's Detective Chang to you—or just detective, if you wish. But _never _'Wuffers.'"

Maxwell looked him squarely in the eyes, defiant as ever. "Bite me, Chang," he challenged, brushing past him and walking off down the hallway.

My partner rolled his eyes in a long-suffering gesture, and I merely shrugged. "Give it up," I suggested. "We only have to put up with him for a few weeks."

"It will seem like an eternity," he sighed wearily. Then he seemed to recall what he was there for. "I'm going to get the groceries now, Yuy. I'll steer clear of the local store and go up the highway to the Megamart…make less of an impression."

I nodded agreement. We'd discussed exactly that plan the day before. "Have you got the list?"

At that point Maxwell came dashing back down the hall, apparently having eavesdropped on our exchange.

"Cigarettes!" he blurted hastily, sliding to a stop in front of Wufei. "Could you get me a carton of menthols, 'Fei?" He pulled a pack from his shirt pocket, brandishing them to show Chang the brand.

Wufei arched an elegant eyebrow. "What was that, Maxwell? Did you _want _something? From _me_?"

Maxwell bristled at the tone, and I could see him warring with his pride. "I need a carton of cigarettes—please," he said carefully.

"No 'bite me Chang,' this time?" my partner sneered.

Maxwell sighed explosively, and grudgingly shook his head.

"Please _who_?" Chang pushed.

God, he knew how to get on someone's last nerve. When Chang had the upper hand and knew it, he could be downright insufferable.

"Detective Chang," came the precise, clipped response.

Wufei appeared to consider the matter, one hand cupping the opposite elbow while he tapped thoughtfully on his cheek with an index finger. "I think I'd like an apology first," he mused.

"For what?" Maxwell demanded, beginning to lose it.

"For butchering my name—repeatedly," said my partner.

Indigo eyes narrowed dangerously. "It's a free country, y'know. There's no fucking law against nicknames."

"Yes, there is," came the infuriatingly calm reply. "It's called Chang's Law. And it states that you shall under no circumstances shorten, alter, or disgrace my name for as long as I'm stuck babysitting your sorry ass."

Maxwell squirmed, glaring heatedly. I could tell he was on the verge of seriously abusing Wufei's name, if not the man himself.

"Well, Maxwell?" taunted my partner. "You ready to obey Chang's Law? Or do you want to go cold turkey on your precious menthols?"

The braided man took a deep breath, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Y'know what, Chang? You can go fuck yourself," he snapped icily. "I'll get my own fuckin' cigarettes and you and your partner can just drop dead." He turned on a heel and stormed off down the hallway.

I sighed, rubbing at my temples with my fingertips. "Chang," I sighed. "Y'know, he _did _ask politely."

"That's not good enough. He needed to learn a bit of respect!"

"And do you think tormenting him that much taught it to him?"

"I think he'll think twice next time."

"I don't." I shook my head. "Pick up his damned cigarettes when you shop, okay? Now's not the time to play games with him. He just watched Merquise's funeral on television."

"Sorry I missed it," sneered my partner. "I'd have liked to see another crime lord put six feet under."

"Jesus—have a little compassion!" I snarled back. "He watched the man's brains get blown out."

"I'd have liked to see that, too."

"Not if you were his lover," I pointed out.

"You mean his _whore_, don't you?"

"Just get the cigarettes."

He sighed and nodded. "I never planned otherwise."

* * *

A chime from my laptop alerted me that Captain Po was messaging us, and I jerked my head to the side to indicate Wufei should join me.

The screen was lit with a single sentence.

CPo: Status?

I slid into the seat and quickly responded.

Y: Secure.

CPo: Have bad news. Your snitch visited. Said there's a web site offering a reward for a certain item.

Y: How much?

CPo: Double the original figure.

Y: Shit! Since when?

CPo: Today. Go to silencer dot com—check it out.

Wufei and I exchanged a long, worried look.

"Go get the food," I told him. "Add some lightweight travel rations, just in case. I'll check out the web site and fill you in later."

"I'll be sure I'm not followed," he said firmly.

Then he was gone, and I was logging into the web site, only to be treated to a stunning, full-page layout of Duo Maxwell photographs. It was complete with descriptions of height, weight, hair and eye color—not that anyone could mistake that chestnut braid for anyone else's. There was a list of favorite haunts, recent sightings, and last known location…which was still the Sisters of Mercy hospital.

"Jesus!" I blurted in horror. Whoever had posted this info knew more about Maxwell than I did after three days of being thrown together.

"No, but I've been called 'Angel' a time or two," came a teasing voice at the door.

I looked up over the laptop to see Maxwell leaning in the doorway, wearing a ratty tee shirt and sweatpants, and carrying a towel and some clothes.

"What do you want, Maxwell?" I snapped crossly, letting my unease at the Captain's revelation affect both my mood and my tone.

Something flickered in the indigo eyes—a dark, hungry look—and an even darker smirk twisted Maxwell's lips. "A nice piece of ass, for starters," he leered. "But since that's out of the question, I guess I'll settle for a long, _hot _shower." He hefted his armful of stuff. "I was just checking in with you—warden." He flipped me the finger and turned on his heel, stalking off down the hall.

I half-rose, intending to go after him and explain that I'd only snapped at him out of frustration and fear. But I quelled that impulse and settled back into my seat.

He should understand that the restrictions we'd placed on him were for his own safety—intended to make our job of protecting him a bit easier. Maybe if I showed him the web site, he'd _get_ it—just how sought-after and vulnerable he really was.

There was a blinking message at the top of the chat box when I minimized the "death to Duo" site.

CPo: Still with me?

Y: Affirmative. Not pleased at the new info.

CPo: Advise you to be prepared to move at a moment's notice.

Y: Already am. Will share the word.

CPo: Your benefactor said to take the vehicle at your location.

Y: Understood. Convey our thanks.

CPo: Already done.

Y: Also, someone would like a dialogue with our benefactor. Can you arrange it?

CPo: Will try to have benefactor present for next contact, which will be in twenty-four hours, unless things change.

Y: Understood. Out.

I logged out of the chat window and pulled up the web site again, grimacing at the amount of information spread out for the world to see. Of course, whoever posted it had gone to great lengths to cover their tracks—but the ad promised the funds would be wired to an untraceable account upon completion of the job.

Two-hundred thousand dollars.

Mind you, it wasn't in the millions…yet. But it was more than enough to tempt every would-be assassin out there to make a play for Maxwell. And if anyone got wind of the connection between Winner and him, I held no illusions that our cover wouldn't be well and truly blown. We'd need alternatives—and fast—if we were forced to flee the umbrella provided by the wealthy defense attorney.

I went to the kitchen for a bottle of water, vaguely hearing the sound of loud music from the bathroom, and what I guessed was Maxwell's voice accompanying it. He carried the tune quite well, most of the time, but occasionally threw in a little off-key improvisation—no doubt for my benefit. He underestimated the thickness of that door, though, because in the kitchen I could barely hear him, and in the study, not at all. He'd have to find some other way to be irritating.

Granted, the fact that he'd noticed the boom box on a chair in the corner of the bathroom was irritating enough. Next he'd probably drag it out into the kitchen to drown out any attempt at conversation Chang and I might make. The brat.

I returned to the laptop, pulling up my security logs for a quick scan, and then I went back to the site, morbidly fascinated by the sick mind that had created it.

Khushrenada couldn't have dreamed it up—I smelled Une's handiwork. It had the attention to detail I'd expect from an administrative assistant—and the vengeful touch of a woman.

I started scrolling through the pictures of Maxwell…several of him standing beside Merquise at various public venues looking more like a bodyguard than a lover, in his leather jacket and dark glasses. But there was one…something about the way Merquise's head was turned, his ice-blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and a soft smile on the aristocratic lips…that spoke of a deeper relationship. Maxwell's head was cocked to the side, his dark glasses missing, the indigo eyes half-lidded, and a sensuous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I'd seen that smirk more than once already—usually as he was making a lewd suggestion—and I thought I knew the cause of the flush on Merquise's cheeks.

Other pictures were obviously publicity shots for The Jungle—which told me the site administrator was no one close to Maxwell. There were no personal or candid shots—just media and advertising pics.

I don't know how long I spent exploring every facet of that warped advertisement, half-tempted to send a message to the contact address just to see if they'd respond. But it was going to be tricky enough to cover my back trail through the internet to be sure they couldn't tag and trace my signal. I was more grateful for my misspent youth than I'd ever been before, when it allowed me to piggyback and obscure my IP address, jumping it through a series of servers before logging off the morbid site.

I was resetting the computer to monitor the surveillance system, when I looked at the time and realized the shower had been running for over an hour. I knew Maxwell's copious hair was probably a bitch to wash—but an hour seemed excessive.

So I walked down the hall and banged on the door. "You about done?" I called through the solid wood, hoping he'd hear me over the loud music still playing.

There was no response, and I realized it had been some time since I'd heard Maxwell singing along with the music.

"Maxwell?"

Nothing.

"Maxwell! Open up, dammit!" I figured he was just being obstinate—sulking after his spat with Chang—or maybe trying to lure me in to see him naked and make another attempt to coax me into his bed.

But when there was still no response, a sudden jolt of fear tightened my gut. Could someone have gotten to him? The only window in the bathroom was small and high—I couldn't imagine anyone might have gotten in. But, oh how ironic would it be if Maxwell slipped and fell in the shower?

I was torn between panic and slightly hysterical laughter, when I finally kicked the door open and burst in, gun drawn and ready.

The shower was still running, though no one was in it. And clean, dry towels were piled on the toilet lid. But there was no sign of Maxwell.

Jesus fucking Christ!!

I turned off the raucous rock music, and then the ice-cold water, looking around the room to see how Maxwell could have been spirited away.

And then in the sudden stillness, broken only by a lingering drip of water from the spigot, I noticed the open window, and the chair pulled up next to it…and I felt a jolt of realization.

"Oh shit no…"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no…"

I dashed from the bathroom through the house to the garage, flinging open the door, only to find my worst fear confirmed.

The fucking Harley was gone.

The little _shit_!

Goddamned, motherfucking little piece of street trash _shit_!

Maxwell had apparently found our rules too confining and had slipped his leash. I couldn't believe he'd managed to fit through that tiny bathroom window (_that Chang had apparently neglected to screw shut_)…and get past my motion sensors (_of which I'd shown him the precise location_)…and into the garage to hotwire the Harley (_whose keys I clearly remembered putting in my pocket_).

My hand slipped into my pocket, closing on the motorcycle keys, even as a voice in the back of my head laughed mockingly at me. Why the hell had I ever thought Maxwell would need a _key _to use the Harley? For Christ's sake, he'd been a car thief! All he'd had to do was push it through the side door and down the driveway far enough so I wouldn't hear it start up. And then he was home free.

Winner was going to fucking kill me.

So was Chang.

Unless, of course, I could track Maxwell down and get him back in his room before my partner returned.

Right. And I'd said _Maxwell _was dreaming?


	18. Desperately Seeking Duo

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Yes, this chapter has another Nine Inch Nails song featured. It just fits Duo so very well, I couldn't resist. And, um, there is what you could almost call NCS. But then, I think everyone's been waiting for _some _kind of sex…_any _kind at all…right?

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Eighteen: Desperately Seeking Duo

I tried to keep my wits about me, even as I gathered up the map and the car keys. I thought back over every word Maxwell had said that afternoon. He'd bitched about Chang and me being lousy company. He'd groused about never getting to go anywhere. And he'd scathingly told my partner we could fuck ourselves and he'd get his own damned cigarettes.

So, that meant he was headed for someplace he could buy cigarettes, and probably find better company. Hell, even the web site administrator had been able to discover that Maxwell liked clubbing. I'd have had to be a total idiot not to think of it. Of course, I was pretty sure I _was_ a total idiot, after letting Maxwell in on the location of all my motion sensors. But I hadn't been thinking of confining him; I'd been focused on protecting him.

God, did I feel stupid. Stupid…angry…frustrated…panicky…take your pick.

As I activated the surveillance system to keep watch in my absence, I tried to remember which town Wufei had chosen for his shopping trip. Maxwell would most likely head for the other decent-sized city. And I know he'd gotten a good look at the map over breakfast.

Shit—I wondered how long he'd been planning his escape. Had we just been played for fools from the moment we left the hospital? Or was Maxwell's escape something Chang and I had pushed him into?

I shoved the nagging questions to the back of my mind and hit the switch to open the garage…then climbed into the rental car and started it up.

By the faint overhead light in the car, I studied the map, noticing Chang had circled the two largest towns within an hour's drive. He'd left a faint pencil mark next to the closest one…which meant I'd seek out the other, guessing Maxwell would do the same.

But even as I backed out of the garage, I worried that Wufei would get home before I did, and I'd face an inquisition upon my return. It wasn't very likely Maxwell would agree to cover for me and say we'd had a sudden urge for pizza; nor would Chang fall for such an obvious lie.

I thought about leaving a note—but I couldn't think of any graceful way to phrase the situation. Nor could I come up with an explanation that would in any way reassure my partner that everything was all right. If he returned and found an empty garage, regardless of any lame excuse I left behind, he'd know something was horribly wrong.

Unless I got back first—_with _Maxwell—I was screwed. And not in a good way.

Great. Now I was even starting to think the same kind of smart-ass comments Maxwell would come up with! Where would it end?

I drove through the solid blackness of the wilderness, pushing the speed limit for all I was worth. It's a wonder I didn't get pulled over, but then again, I really _was_ in the middle of nowhere. The odds of me hitting a deer or bear were far greater than the chance that a cop might be out there with radar.

I'd driven for nearly an hour before I spotted a road sign for the city I sought. And I drove for nearly fifteen minutes more, before reaching what looked like an oasis of light amid the uninterrupted dark of the mountains. One moment I was driving along a deserted highway, and the next there were billboards, neon signs, and all the accoutrements of civilization.

In fact, there was so much civilization that I felt a rush of despair at the thought of ever finding one seductive young man and a Harley in all that chaos.

"Goddamnit, Maxwell, where _are_ you?" I groaned, wanting to slam a fist on the dashboard in frustration.

After half an hour of searching, I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for the nearest nightclub district.

When I walked into the Food Mart, it was almost eight-thirty—early by "clubbing" standards—but much too late by mine. Wufei had a head start on me, a shorter distance to drive, and a list. Not to mention he didn't have to search for groceries. They'd be right there waiting for him at the store. Maxwell, on the other hand, was unlikely to wait anywhere for me—and he had to know I'd be coming, unless he was dumber than I took him for. Frankly, I didn't intend to ever underestimate his intelligence again.

A teenage clerk leaned on the counter, chewing gum with her mouth open, and flirting with a guy who was young and pimply enough to be her boyfriend, while some older guys were rummaging through the cooler for beer.

"Miss?"

She gave a little sigh of annoyance and turned a resentful look towards me—only to suddenly straighten up and smile. "Oh—hi! Can I help you?"

I'd dodged Relena's advances often enough to know flirting when I saw it. "I'm—unfamiliar with this area. Can you tell me where I'd find a nightclub or two?" I flashed a very brief, barely-civil smile at her…the kind a wolf might wear at the sight of a helpless sheep.

It went completely over her very empty head.

"Oh you'd want Maple Street," she said, nodding.

Her male friend shook his head. "Nuh-uh. The best places are on Vine."

"No way," she shot back. "Just 'cause Carlo likes Mo's place, you think all the great clubs are near there. Frosty Jugs is ten times better!"

_God—fucking kill me now!_

"Not since Candy Stripper quit working there!" he retorted.

"Aha! I thought you said you hadn't seen her act. Gerry, you're a lying sack of shit!"

"I haven't been there—I just heard she quit," came the unconvincing response.

"Right. I'll _bet_!"

I slammed a hand down hard on the counter, which was just enough to break up their inane argument. "Directions please!" I barked out impatiently.

"Oh." Her eyes and mouth were equally round. "Uh—right on Main, through three lights and left at the fourth—five blocks and you'll see all the clubs."

I didn't even bother thanking her. I just got the hell out of there before I had to hurt someone. Shit—the girl and her boyfriend made Maxwell and Chang seem mature enough to be senior citizens!

I followed her directions, and was fairly stunned to find they were correct. And then I was cruising slowly down a three or four block area lined by nightclubs on both sides of the road. I groaned in despair at the sheer number of them; was this the only fucking town in a hundred-mile radius with bars? They sure seemed to be overcompensating. If I had to go door to door, it promised to be a long, long night.

I might never have found Maxwell at all, had I not caught a glimpse of the Harley's chrome in an alley between a place called Hell's Bells, and one called Paradise City.

Parking at the mouth of the alley, I walked over and took a closer look, sighing as I positively identified the bike. Of course, the momentary relief was quickly swallowed by cold rage as I recalled the ordeal Maxwell had just put me through. When I got my hands around his skinny little neck, he'd wish he'd never even _thought_ of escaping on my watch!

I hesitated only a moment before deciding someone who sported a tattoo of the Grim Reaper would enjoy a place with Hell in the name. And then I was pushing my way in the door, shoving a fifty into the hand of a bouncer who would have delayed me, and blinking to adjust my eyes to the murky lighting.

_Head like a hole, black as your soul…I'd rather die, than give you control…_

The music was loud, raucous, and as defiant as Maxwell, creating a pulsing beat in the strobe-lit interior of the bar.

I spotted him barely a moment after entering the dark, smoky club.

The braided man was out on the dance floor; he'd traded his faded jeans for the tight leather pants that left so little to the imagination, and a mesh top that left nothing. A leather collar graced the long, slender neck, and matching bands encircled his wrists, which he held up over his head as he danced sinuously against another man. The silver studs on his jewelry occasionally caught the light; or, at least, what little light there was in the dark hole of a place.

I glared at my wayward charge, on the verge of storming across the dance floor and dragging him back to safety. The fucking idiot had no idea the risk he was taking, coming to a place that was so typical of his old haunts.

I watched him sidle closer to his dance partner; so close, in fact, that their bodies were against each other. And as Maxwell swung his hips in a slow, circular motion, the man in front of him dropped his hands to that slim waist and pulled him even closer, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in ecstasy.

_Bow down before the one you serve…you're going to get what you deserve…_

They moved together, and a shaft of flickering light briefly illuminated Maxwell's face so I could see the sweat dripping down the sides, and the wisps of chestnut hair clinging to it as he watched his partner with half-lidded eyes and a perfectly wicked smirk.

_Fuck!_

For a moment I hesitated, torn between the desire to protect Maxwell and the all-consuming need to devour him with my eyes. He was sex personified; a creature of darkness and shadows; his every movement sensual, provocative…dangerous. And I wanted him.

_Goddamn it!_

Shaking off the hypnotic spell as he ground his hips against the other man's, I started working my way through the crowd towards them. I kept my gaze locked on the pair as I did so, glancing away only long enough to avoid walking squarely into other patrons of the crowded bar.

By the time I reached the edge of the dance floor, Maxwell had turned so that his partner was up against his back, arms wrapped around his waist and his groin pressed against Duo's ass. My protected witness had his head back against the other man's shoulder, eyes nearly closed as he ground back even harder than his dance partner. I could almost hear his breathy groans, and I had to stop to catch my breath and steady my own racing pulse.

Why the fuck was he affecting me this way? He was a witness. Nothing more. A junkie and stripper, who'd probably done some whoring on the side before he hooked up with Merquise. He was tainted goods, and the only thing that made him worth keeping alive was that he'd witnessed the murder of his lover by the powerful head of the Oz syndicate. He was…fucking gorgeous.

With his head thrown back like that, and his pale throat exposed, he looked almost too ethereal to be real. His braid trailed between their bodies, moving like a coiling snake, slapping against the tight leather covering his thighs. And I had an insane urge to grab him by it.

_Fuck, Heero, get a grip!_

Right about then, as the man tried to slide a hand down the front of Maxwell's groin, the braided man pulled away, turning to face him again. I swear, for a second he looked right at me, and I thought for sure he'd bolt. But he didn't. Instead, he kept dancing with that same graceful rhythm, his indigo eyes locked on those of his partner.

The other man took him by the wrists, tugging him towards the edge of the crowd, whispering something in one of his ears. Maxwell balked slightly, resisting the pull, and giving a slight shake of his head and a sultry laugh. And as soon as I saw the look that flashed in the other man's eyes, I knew my protected witness was in trouble. I reached in my back pocket for my badge and up under my leather jacket for my sidearm, elbowing my way unceremoniously towards them.

The crowd on the dance floor closed around me, momentarily obscuring my target, and when I cleared the other side, I had to glance around to find them again. They were near the sign for the men's room, and I knew exactly where the pushy dancer was trying to take Maxwell.

_Great. I could hear my boss' voice echoing in my ears. "Nice job, Yuy. Care to tell me again how you allowed a protected witness to run off to a dance club and get raped while under your supervision?" Not on __my__ fucking watch!_

But as I neared the couple, I heard a loud expletive, and slowed my approach, stopping in shock when I was within a few feet of my objective.

Maxwell was pressed up against the other man, gripping his shoulder with one hand, and holding something against his ribs with the other. A gleam in the indigo eyes caught my attention and kept me still; it was the look of a predator.

I'd assumed Maxwell was helpless against the bigger man's advances—that he wouldn't be able to defend himself from his drunken aggression. Instead, he had a switchblade tucked up under the guy's ribs, mere centimeters from a potentially killing thrust.

"I said," he hissed quietly, "I'm not going anywhere with you. What the fuck don't you understand about the word 'no?'"

The man shook his head helplessly, his face a pasty white, and his hands shaking so badly I knew he'd be puking his guts out in the toilet the very instant Maxwell let him go.

_If _Maxwell let him go.

"Max." I kept my tone neutral; almost conversational.

He flicked a glance my way, not registering any surprise. I thought he'd seen me before, and now I had my confirmation. "Not your fight, Yuy."

"You know it is, and you know why."

His lips thinned to a tight line, and a scowl darkened his face until the man he held so firmly whimpered in fear.

"Fuck you, Yuy," he muttered, leaning in a little closer to his victim. "Next time you think you found yourself an easy lay, you fuckin' _ask_. Don't _tell_. An' if they say 'no,' it means 'no,' got it?"

The man nodded tremulously, and Maxwell shoved him away, closing the switchblade and slipping it into a tight back pocket. He'd barely begun to turn towards me when I grabbed him by an elbow and headed him firmly towards the door.

"You fuckin' duck out like this again, Maxwell, and I'll kill you myself," I growled in his ear, forcefully propelling him along, though I was keenly aware of the heat radiating from his sweaty body and the flush on his cheeks from the excitement.

"I was bored out of my ever-lovin' _mind_," he snarled back, glancing sideways at me as we pushed through the crowd and out the side door into a dark alley.

Once outside, he turned on me, jerking free and standing with his hands on his hips, eyes flashing. "Goddamnit, Yuy! I'm not used to being holed up in some fuckin' wasteland! I lived in the city my whole life—the noise an' lights were what lulled me to sleep at night! I can't take all this—!" He waved his arms at the world at large. "—this _quiet_!"

I listened for a moment to the muted sounds of distant traffic and the muffled music from the club we'd just left. It _was_ far quieter than the city we came from, but then, that was kind of the point. And then I looked at Duo, on the verge of telling him to fucking _deal_ with it.

But his indigo eyes were wide in the semi-darkness, his lips parted as he nearly panted with emotion. And once again I had to fight down the urge to grab him. I'd seen what he did to anyone who touched him without being invited, and I wasn't that stupid.

"Let's get back to the safe house before Wufei finds us gone," I muttered, heading past him.

He caught my arm, stopping me. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"The same way Oz's hired assassins would," I said coldly, jerking my arm free of the searing touch.

I heard his indrawn breath as it finally seemed to sink home to him that there were people who wanted him dead—and people who were willing to do the deed for money. And all I could think was it was about fucking time.

* * *

We left the motorcycle parked there at the bar; I wasn't about to let Maxwell out of my sight again. Instead I shoved him into the passenger seat and slammed the door firmly, wishing I had fucking child locks on all the doors.

I didn't say a word as I got in and started the car up, pulling a quick u-turn and heading out of the small city. Now that I had my rebellious witness back in custody, the adrenaline began to fade, along with the pounding of my heart in my ears. All that was left was the interminable ride back to the safe house and facing up to Chang, if he was waiting. And while that thought made my stomach clench, it didn't bring the panic it might have if I'd been returning empty-handed.

Was it too much to hope that maybe Chang had a flat tire or engine trouble—anything that might delay him longer than strolling through a grocery store and topping off a tank of gas?

For once Maxwell didn't turn the radio on and crank up a rock station. He didn't even chatter on endlessly about the world he'd had to leave behind or the rules that Chang and I had heaped upon him. He just sat slumped against the door, staring out into the darkness as we drove.

I thought I'd be glad for the silence; relieved at his submissive attitude. But I found myself glancing aside at him, worried by how subdued he was.

"Are—you okay?" I finally asked, wanting to bite my own tongue off the moment the words were out of my mouth.

He just shrugged a shoulder, idly running a hand up the side of his bare arm. "What's it to you?" he asked sullenly.

"It's my job to—look after you."

"It's your job to keep me alive and get me to the courthouse," he replied curtly.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not even close," he growled under his breath.

"What's the difference?"

There was a long silence as he stared vacantly out the window. But finally he answered me. "Looking after each other is what friends do—or partners do."

"Merquise looked after you?"

He nodded. "An' Solo before that," he elaborated. "In a gang, you watch each other's back. You look out for each other." He gave me a resentful glare out of the corner of his eye. "Cops don't look out for anybody but themselves."

"We look out for honest citizens who need our protection," I said stiffly.

"Exactly," he said rather smugly. "And all the not-so honest people…the ones who have to bend the rules to get by…who have to steal to eat…they can just go fuck themselves, right?"

I wasn't naïve enough to think that there weren't people who genuinely _had_ to steal to survive; but I liked to think my job was to go after bigger fish than that, and that by doing my job, I was helping those smaller ones as well. "Maxwell, I'm not on the street to hassle the hookers or bust on the kids who steal a pack of gum at the Seven Eleven. My job is to take down the drug lords and dealers—the ones who are poisoning the streets for everyone. My job is to stop murderers and thieves. So don't tell me I don't give a shit about the homeless panhandlers in the ghetto."

Maxwell gave a short, bitter laugh. "Ya wanna know something, _detective_? Oz has probably fed a hell of a lot more orphans than your precious police force ever did." He fixed me with a narrow gaze. "The Syndicate might spread drugs on the streets—but if a kid can be a mule instead of a whore, his life expectancy—not to mention quality of life—goes up significantly."

"Is that experience talking?"

"I've never been a whore, Yuy," he spat coldly. "I've been a pickpocket, a mule, an exotic dancer, and a bodyguard—but never a whore."

By now my irritation with him had allowed me to tamp down my sympathetic tendencies. "You mean being Merquise's 'kept man' wasn't the same thing?"

"Zechs Merquise never paid me a fucking dime to sleep with him; as if a man like him would _have_ to!" Duo hissed defiantly, turning a furious glare on me, his cheeks bright with color as his temper flared. And then he caught himself, visibly regaining control and smirking nastily. "It was a pleasure," he crooned in an almost sly tone. "The man was goddamn _fine_. Best fuck I ever had."

I rolled my eyes, glad we were nearing the turnoff for the cabin. "That's nice to know, Maxwell. But the bottom line is you were a drug lord's fuck toy, and because of that you witnessed his murder. Because of that, you're out here in the middle of this godforsaken wasteland with two cops trying to keep you alive long enough to testify against the scum that killed him."

"I'm out here because you fuckin' strong-armed me into it. If you cops hadn't picked me up in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"No, you'd be dead by now. You think Khushrenada would have left you alive once he found out how close you were to Merquise? If he even suspected you knew anything about the murder…if he even had a glimmer…he'd have had you killed just to be certain you'd never talk. You were screwed the minute you hooked up with Merquise."

Duo scowled. "Zechs Merquise was the only guy besides Trowa who ever treated me decent in my life. Hooking up with him was the best move I ever made."

I pulled into the driveway and breathed a sigh at the sight of an empty garage. Unless Chang had gotten there and gone out looking for us, I was off the hook as far as that went.

And the moment I had the vehicle inside, I hit the switch to close the door behind us.

Maxwell was already out of the car, even before I had the engine off, stalking quickly towards the door.

"Wait for me, Maxwell!" I cautioned. "Or d'you _want _to take a chance that no one is onto us and waiting inside?"

He stopped, crossing his arms defiantly, and tapping a booted foot impatiently as he waited for me to leave the vehicle and join him by the door into the house.

I listened at the entrance for a moment, and then opened it quickly, scanning the interior. When all seemed quiet, I walked in, heading for the laptop and flipping on the monitor to check my recording devices for any activity in our absence. I thanked my lucky stars that I'd had the presence of mind to engage the security system when I dashed off after my wayward charge.

"All clear," I said over my shoulder, listening to Duo's quick, irritated stomps as he crossed the room and headed for the cupboard. "What are you after, Maxwell?"

"I need a drink," snarled the braided man, glaring briefly at me. "You dragged me out of the club before I could finish my whiskey."

"I doubt you'll find much of anyth—." I stopped as Maxwell pulled a bottle of brandy from a cupboard next to the refrigerator.

"Score!" he grinned smugly, reaching for a glass. He poured a hefty portion into the tumbler, and walked over to plunk himself down at the table, propping a foot on a spare chair and beginning to unlace his boot. "At least Winner's got decent liquor in this shithole."

"Shithole?" I echoed. "This cabin probably cost more to build than you'll have in your lifetime." I gave a wry snort. "Me, too, for that matter." I walked over and put a hand on one of the massive logs in the walls. "Twelve solid inches of wood, Maxwell. It might be the only thing that keeps you alive if Khushrenada ever gets wind of where we are. He could send a dozen hired guns to set siege to this place, and they'd never be able to get a shot through." I looked up at the window, raising an eyebrow. "Of course, if they had grenades and could get close enough to break a window—." I let my voice trail off significantly.

"Point taken, Yuy," drawled Maxwell wearily. "I'll be a good little stoolie and stay in the nice, fortified bunker from now on." He kicked off his boots and took a long swig of brandy, tilting his head back and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Goddamn, but this sucks!"

I shook my head, walking over and pouring myself a single finger's-depth of brandy, and taking a quick swallow. "That goes double for me," I admitted wryly, adding a little more to my glass before sitting opposite him at the table.

Maxwell eyed the glass, and then me. "Is that why you're drinking while on duty, Mister Big Shot Cop?"

"I'm drinking because I _need_ a little break," I growled back irritably. "You slipped out on my watch and damn near got yourself raped."

The indigo eyes narrowed, and Maxwell snorted skeptically. "He never had a chance, Yuy. Or did you not see the switchblade?"

"You know I did," I replied. "And we won't even go into how you got it or whether you're supposed to have it. With the number of people after your hide, it's probably just as well you're armed."

"Nice ta know you care," he shot back snidely, getting up and going for a refill of his drink. He was standing with his back to me, and I once again found my gaze irresistibly drawn to the tight leather pants and the braid trailing down his ass. Where he was standing at the counter, that ass was only a few feet from my face, right at eye level, and I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away.

"Y'know, Zechs was probably the only one who ever really cared," he said quietly. "Besides Trowa anyway."

"Zechs the drug lord?" I asked scathingly, irritated at both my situation and that compulsion to stare at my too-sexy charge.

He shot me a look over his shoulder, and then turned back to the table, settling into the seat across from me, and placing his glass between his two hands. "Maybe that's how you saw him. I saw a different side of him."

"Right," I scoffed. "You saw a meal ticket, Maxwell."

"I saw the sexiest man alive," came the quick, fervent reply. "Zechs was more than rich; he was elegant—classy. And it just blew me away that he thought a street punk like me was worth pursuing."

"Yeah, it kind of blows me away, too," I said snidely, not even sure why I was bothering to engage him in conversation when all I really wanted was to take the edge off with a stiff drink, and find my way to bed.

He shot me a glare, and then turned his gaze back to the amber liquid in his glass. "No one ever made me feel the way Zechs did." His lips quirked in a pensive smile as he brought the glass to his lips again.

"What way is that?" _Again, why was I asking?_

His smile softened and became wistful. "He made me feel—important—almost respectable."

I snorted at the very thought of Maxwell ever being considered respectable, and downed the rest of my drink.

His eyes flashed and he slammed his glass down, sloshing liquor over the sides. "What? You think it's funny that he bothered with a punk like me?"

"I think it's funny that you think you could ever pass for respectable."

"Oh fuck you!" he snarled, stiffening in anger. "Who are you to judge me?"

"I'm someone who obeys the law," I retorted. "I'm someone who _is _respectable—that's why I feel qualified to judge you."

He picked up the glass again and with a quick jerk of his wrist, he flung the contents in my face. "You fucking, self-righteous prick!" Then he raised his arm and threw the tumbler to smash against the far wall of the kitchen, and stood up. "I'm outta here! For _good _this time!"

He was halfway to the door when he heard me cock my gun, and it stopped him in his tracks. "Sit back down, Maxwell."

Indigo eyes shot me a purely dangerous look over his shoulder. "No." He turned to face me, arms crossed defiantly. "Go ahead and shoot me. Fuck the case! Fuck the cops! Take Khushrenada's damned money and retire to Tahiti, you arrogant asshole! It'd be worth dyin' just to see you get your lily-white hands dirty!"

"Sit _down_!"

"Make me."

I slipped the safety on and slammed the gun back into my shoulder holster. Then I stood up and stalked quickly over to where he was waiting. He was clearly looking for a confrontation, and after chasing his ass all over town, I was in just the mood to give him one.

But before I got my hands on him, he'd slipped away, evading my grasp and hooking a foot around my ankle to nearly bring me to the ground. With an angry growl, I reassessed my position, and then attacked—keeping in mind his quick reflexes and incredible agility.

I figured if I just got an arm around his waist, I could overpower him and wrestle him into the kitchen chair, handcuffing him to it if I had to. And he almost didn't elude me the second time—my fingers actually brushed his skin.

But all I caught was a handful of air as he twisted away, lashing out with a backfist to the side of my head that made me see stars. It also made me mad as hell, and I sidestepped, feinted to the right, and then caught his arm, trying to bring it around behind him and get him in a lock hold. I hadn't been partnered with Chang all those years without getting an education in martial arts. We sparred regularly, and my Chinese colleague had taught me volumes about hand to hand combat.

On the other hand, I'd had just enough brandy to mess with my reflexes a bit.

Once again Maxwell wrenched himself free, chuckling darkly and dancing just out of reach. "You're slow, Yuy!" he taunted, looking for all the world as if he were enjoying the scuffle.

And maybe he was. As he'd said, the inactivity was driving him crazy. Maybe a night out and a good fight would be enough to settle him down.

We'd dodged and danced our way into the living room before I finally landed a blow to his stomach that made the air rush out of his lungs and sent him staggering back a step. "That's for spitting in my face three years ago and ruining a day's worth of paperwork!" I vented.

He recovered all too quickly and kicked at my leg, landing a glancing blow as I dodged back. "That's for calling me a hooker that day!" he retorted.

"The truth hurts," I sneered, ducking another punch, and catching his wrist. Ah yes! It would all be over soon.

He tried to break free, but I pulled him up against me hard and swept his legs out from under him, bringing us both to the floor with me on top.

"Goddamnit, Yuy!" he snarled, flailing with his free arm and smacking my head again. "Fucking asshole cop! Get offa me!"

I caught the thrashing arm and forced it to the floor, keeping it there with a death grip on his wrist. Maneuvering so that I could control his movements, I soon had both of his arms pinned above his head, a leg trapping both of his, and my weight holding him down on the floor…but that didn't keep him from panting, cursing, and squirming under me.

"Let me the fuck _up_!"

I shook my head, grinning victoriously. "Give it up, Maxwell. I'm not gonna shoot you—you're not gonna leave. You're going to testify against Khushrenada and put him away for a long, long time."

"I ain't gonna do jack shit for you!"

I looked down at the angry glitter of the deep bluish-purple eyes—and for a moment it was as if gravity pressed down on me—and my head lowered until my lips were against his.

His struggles ceased all at once, and his lips parted, welcoming my tongue—allowing me to taste and feel and just devour his mouth. And, _God_, did he taste good! With the sweet brandy overwriting the cigarette he'd smoked earlier, I could have gone on kissing him all night. He was _that _intoxicating.

I pulled myself away with effort, looking down at the half-lidded, lust-filled eyes.

Oh shit.

I scrambled back, releasing him and getting to my feet, brushing my clothes off and backing away. But before I could open my mouth to apologize or try to explain the inexplicable, I found myself staring down the barrel of my own gun…which he'd apparently lifted from my shoulder holster as I extricated myself from our embrace.

"Fuck!"

Maxwell smiled, but it never reached his eyes. "Oops," he whispered, pulling the trigger.

A bullet whipped past my face so closely I felt the breeze—and imbedded itself in the wall behind me. The report echoed in the close confines and the pungent smell of gunpowder filled the room.

I hesitated—my every instinct urging me to dodge and attack—to wrest the weapon from his hands. But once again, it was pointed unwaveringly at my face—and he looked no less deadly than before.

He sat up, still keeping the gun trained on me. "Now—I guess since I'm the one with the weapon—we'll do this _my _way from now on." His gleaming eyes raked me from head to toe as he got up and stood facing me. "Take off your clothes."

"What?" I must've gaped like a fish, because he smiled evilly.

"Take 'em off. _All _of 'em."

"I'm not—."

Another report rang out, deafening in the small room, and the bullet bit through the floorboards mere inches from my feet.

"Fucking shit!" I snarled, taking an involuntary half-step backwards. "You're a goddamned lunatic!"

"That may be. But I'm a lunatic with a gun—so strip, Yuy! Or the next shot'll have you singin' soprano the rest of your life."

"Sonofa—!" I glared heatedly at Maxwell as I methodically stripped off my shoes, socks, shirt, trousers, and finally boxers. Then I stood with my arms crossed self-consciously, not quite able to keep looking the man in the eyes as he eased closer.

"Nice," he purred, running his gaze up and down. He licked his lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and to my absolute mortification, I felt my body respond. "Oh, _very _nice," he murmured, so close I could smell the brandy on his breath.

Then he sank slowly to his knees, eyes still fixed on my face. As I started to shift my weight in preparation for moving back, I felt the icy muzzle of the gun settle against my left knee.

"Stay," he commanded flatly.

Not wanting to walk with a limp for the rest of my life, I stayed, trying not to shiver with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

Then he ran his tongue up the underside of my cock, and my knees very nearly buckled. "What the _fuck _are you doing?" I demanded hoarsely.

"Anything I want," he replied with a wicked smirk, his breath hot against my now completely-hard flesh. "—seeing as I'm _still _the one with the gun."

Another teasing lick and then his hot mouth enveloped me completely, and I swallowed a moan, willing my legs to remain steady. Fuck, but he was talented…teasing…licking… sucking…until I found my hands tangled in his hair, anchored there as if to keep me from falling to the floor, or him from moving away. I couldn't keep my hips from thrusting towards that incredibly skilled mouth—and I bit my lip until it bled to keep from screaming his name as I came.

When I was done—what seemed like an eternity later—my knees buckled despite my best efforts, and I sank to the floor as he eased away, wiping the back of a hand across his mouth and then licking those amazing lips.

He rocked back onto his heels, the arm with the gun lying along one thigh as he looked at me with eyes that practically glowed with lust.

"Why—?" My voice came out a ragged breath of sound.

He didn't answer, but moved forward, wrapping his free arm around my neck and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I moaned at the taste of myself on his tongue, tangling a hand in his hair and devouring his mouth.

He didn't resist as I worked the gun free of his fingers and tossed it aside—or as I tugged the buttons free and slid his shirt off. By the time I got to his pants, he was helping me, rising up on his knees so he could work the snug fabric down past his thighs and off over his calves.

And then I pressed him down, ignoring the hiss as his heated back encountered the cool wood of the floor.

"Fuck, Yuy," he whispered in a throaty voice. "God—_please_. Fuck me!"

So I did.

You'd think at some point my sanity or conscience might have kicked in—but both were curiously silent as I ravaged the lean body lying so compliantly beneath me. Actually, "lying" didn't really fit what he was doing; neither did "compliant." He was far from passive—his fingers digging into the back of my shoulder blades as I kissed my way down his chest, tasting the skin I'd only dreamed about. He wrapped a leg around my waist, forcefully bringing our groins together in electrifying contact.

At some point, one of his hands let go its hold on me to grope around until he found his discarded pants and dug in a pocket, slipping a small tube and a foil packet into my hand a few seconds later. Oh—right—protection. I was fucking a guy who'd stripped for a living and slept around, with virtually no thought for safe sex practices until he reminded me. Proof positive I'd totally lost my mind.

But _fuck _he was amazing—lithe and powerful—all smooth skin and hard muscle underneath me. And I couldn't get enough of him. I kept one hand firmly on his bicep, pinning his arm down as I prepped him with my other hand. He squirmed and bucked against me, gasping and moaning—but if he'd really wanted to break free he could have done it easily.

When I pushed into him, he let out a low, satisfied groan, wrapping both legs around my waist and pulling me in as deep as he could. "C'mon!" he urged. "Harder, dammit! Harder! Fuck me like you mean it!"

The raw need in his voice shredded the last of my self-control and then I was pounding into him like my life depended on it, spiraling towards the release I so desperately craved.

All of the teasing and tension—the heated looks and seductive promises—and now he was underneath me—around me—feeling tighter and hotter and better than any dream I'd ever had. Everything else faded away into meaningless oblivion as I lost myself in the dark pools of indigo staring up at me and the fiery passion consuming both of us.

He came first, yelling obscenities and digging his fingers into my back so hard I knew there'd be bruises, if not blood drawn. And the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, his eyes locked on mine drove me right over the edge into the most intense orgasm of my life. _Goddamn,_ he was amazing!

Fucking amazing.

And it wasn't until the high wore off, and I began to register the harshness of my breathing and the cooling sweat on my back—the tight heat still around me and the panting body beneath me—that the voice of reason made itself heard.

God—I had sex with a witness! A protected witness, no less! A _male _protected witness, goddamnit!

And I had no idea what to think about that—or how to feel about it.

I pulled out of him, shaking like a leaf at the realization of what I'd done, and rolled onto my side on the cool boards of the floor, gasping as my breath finally returned.

After a moment, his breathing steadied, and he pushed up into a sitting position, gathering his discarded clothes and dressing with his back to me. "Told you it'd help pass the time," he said nonchalantly.

I felt my chest constrict at that. So it was nothing more than a physical release for him.

But then—that's what it was to me, too. Right? It's not like I felt anything for him emotionally. He was a criminal—always had been and probably always would be—witness protection notwithstanding.

He turned to fix a cool gaze on me. "Gettin' up, detective? Or d'you _like _sitting buck naked on a cold floor?" He started towards the gun, which finally galvanized me into action.

I dove past him, retrieving the weapon and turning a threatening glare his way.

He smirked darkly. "I was gonna give it back, Yuy," he said, flashing white teeth in a grim smile. "I got what I wanted."

"Good," I snarled coldly. "Because that's _all_ you're getting!"

He looked up through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable. "It was good," he said simply, turning and heading for his room.

I pulled my clothes back on quickly, reloading my gun and tucking it back into the holster, snapping the tie-down over it for safekeeping. Then I took a kitchen towel and wiped the floor to remove all evidence of my colossal mistake, grabbed the used condom, and flushed it down the toilet so there was no chance that Chang might stumble across it in the trash. After throwing the towel in the bottom of the hamper, I went looking for the remains of the brandy—and witness protection be damned! I _needed _a drink.

* * *

The bottle was nearly empty when I heard the rumble of the garage door opening, and I stumbled to my feet, easing over to peer through the blinds. I sighed in relief as Wufei pulled the car in, parked, and got out, picking up two grocery bags and heading for the door.

"Jesus, what kept you?" I snarled, yanking open the door.

"Damned cashiers from Hell," he muttered wearily, pushing past me into the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of the open bottle on the table. "Yuy?"

"It's been a long goddamned night," I growled back. "Our witness made another break for it, and I almost didn't find him."

My partner's eyes glittered with anger. "He got past you?"

"He went out the bathroom window."

"The little one?"

"He's slender," I reminded him. "Slipped out the window and hotwired the Harley."

"So that would explain why the motorcycle is missing from the garage," sighed my partner. He looked once again at the bottle and then at me. "Were you drinking before he left as well?"

In a heartbeat I had Wufei pinned to the wall by both shoulders, glaring into his face. "I was not fucking drinking before he bolted, Chang. And if you'd screwed all the windows shut like I suggested yesterday, it wouldn't have happened at all."

"I did screw them shut! But that one was too high and too small to bother with!"

"Obviously not!"

"Well how the fuck was I supposed to know he'd be that desperate?"

"It's your job to know!"

"It's yours, too!"

The sound of a door opening and closing made us both pause, and Duo walked around the corner with an infuriatingly bouncy spring in his step. "So—yer back Wuffers!" he said cheerily, heading straight for the grocery bags. "Did you get my cigarettes?"

When neither of us answered, he paused and gave us a long look, eying the way I had Chang shoved up against the wall. The indigo eyes raked me with a knowing look, which made me hastily release my partner and take a step back.

"You boys wanna be alone?" Maxwell teased, his hand sliding into a bag and emerging with the aforementioned carton of cigarettes.

"Fuck you, Maxwell!" I spat coldly, nearly shaking with anger. "You ever try to run from us again, and I'll personally put a bullet in your back."

He turned and put his hands on his hips. "I didn't run from you. I went out. I'd have come back—." Here he gave me another long, almost searching look. "—once I got what I wanted."

Wufei brushed past, getting between me and the braided man. "Sneaking out to get your goddamned cigarettes is over the top, Maxwell! If you breach security again, we're well within our rights to take you back to be locked into a holding cell until the trial."

"Yeah," scoffed Maxwell. "It'd be like shooting fish in a barrel for Khushrenada's people."

"Then stop being a fucking asshole and let us protect you," snarled my partner.

Maxwell gave me an infuriating leer. "Fine. Yuy can guard my body day and night," he said with a suggestive lick of his lips.

I darted a glance from him to Chang. "I have to get out of here before I kill him, 'Fei," I growled, grabbing my jacket off the back of a chair and storming out before I did what I'd just threatened.

I know I was drunk. And I've always been a bit of an angry drunk. The last thing I needed was another incident on top of what had already happened.

What had already happened. Yeah. Talk about closing the barn door after the horse is out. Lingering amid the waves of self-loathing I was feeling was the sensation of Duo's hands on my back, his fingers digging into the skin, and his legs locked around my waist. And God, I wanted to feel all that again!

_What the fuck was wrong with me? _


	19. The Aftermath

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Nineteen: The Aftermath

When I got back from checking the perimeter and making sure my surveillance equipment was still in place, the house was quiet, and I was much calmer. I'd had time while going through the comforting routine to go back over what had happened. I'd lost my head, true. But after the emotional rollercoaster of discovering Maxwell gone, chasing him down in a smoky nightclub, and dragging him back to the safe house, I thought perhaps there was an explanation for my lapse.

Add to the stressful night the fact that Duo got possession of my gun and more or less raped me, (okay, _less_, dammit, less) and I could almost forgive myself for losing it the way I did. He'd been baiting me since the moment we arrested him—making suggestive comments, leering, taunting, and teasing. Throw a gun, some testosterone, a quick blowjob, and my frustration level into the mix, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Assuming you consider sex a disaster. And in this case, I did.

Now I had to wonder how he'd behave from this point on. Like he'd said, he got what he wanted. But he made it clear enough that the wanting hadn't stopped. He wanted. I lusted. Bad combination.

I needed a buffer—something to take his focus off me, and my focus off him. Not that I wasn't going to remain intent on protecting him. But I should be able to do that without the temptation of remembering the hungry mouth devouring mine, and the sinuous, muscular body, arching up to meet me…

Aw, fuck.

Clearly those memories wouldn't go away. But I thought if I pushed Chang into more of the supervision, maybe it would give me room to regain my equilibrium.

I had a momentary regret that we hadn't thought to have Barton come along. He'd been the first one to talk to Maxwell after Merquise's death—so he had some small value as a corroborating witness. And since he and Maxwell had been fuck-buddies, he'd probably have been happy to satisfy his friend's desires. Maybe the next time I contacted headquarters, I could have the Captain track him down.

_Right, Yuy_. How was that supposed to work? I couldn't even reveal our location to Captain Po, let alone have her tell Barton to hop a cab up here to provide sexual release for a frustrated, restless ex-stripper.

Another idea shot to Hell.

Chang was sitting in the living room, watching television with the sound down so low it might as well have been off. He looked up when I walked in. "Feeling better?"

I didn't like the snide tone, but I certainly felt I deserved it. "Sober," I replied shortly. "And I think I've got my temper under control again."

I'd been unfair to Wufei when he arrived home and I snapped. But part of me had been wishing he'd been home when Maxwell and I first got there. Then none of the rest would have happened. We'd have gotten verbally flayed by him—but nothing sexual would have happened.

On the other hand, my mind went horribly blank when I considered the ramifications if he'd walked in while we were on the floor fucking. God! That would have been—unthinkably bad.

I supposed I should just be grateful that he'd been very late returning. "I think we should minimize the amount of time either one of us is out," I said evenly, sinking down onto a chair facing him.

He nodded. "I agree. Maxwell's clearly unstable. We can't trust him to have his own best interests at heart. So it's up to us to protect him from himself and his childish indulgences."

Childish indulgences? Fucking your bodyguard hardly qualified as childish—maybe self-indulgent. Once again, I thanked the Powers that Be for Chang's ignorance of what had really gone on.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure what exactly _had _gone on. I mean, I knew what we did _(fucked)_, and I knew how it felt _(incredible)_, but I was still grappling with its significance…wondering if it was really as meaningless to Maxwell as he'd indicated…wondering how he'd use it to blackmail me. And I had no doubt he would.

"Yuy?"

I looked up blankly. "Hm?"

"Are you all right? You just drifted off on me there."

"I just—. Look—losing Maxwell shook me up, Wufei. We—I—really screwed up. And it bothers me. It bothers me that I made so many mistakes, and it bothers me that I underestimated Maxwell's abilities. He slipped out of here like the pro that he is—and it seems like I should have seen it coming."

My partner gave a tight smile that was really more of a grimace. "You're right, except for the part where you're trying to take more than your share of the blame, Yuy. As you started to say, _we _screwed up." He gave a slight shrug. "Perhaps you should have handled it better—but then, you've never dealt with failure very gracefully."

"Thanks," I muttered snidely.

"I'm just saying, any time I've ever seen you fail, I've also seen you castigate yourself endlessly afterwards—like you're doing now. And right now you don't have that luxury. You need to pull yourself together and help make sure _we _don't repeat _our_ mistakes."

I nodded, relief flooding through me as I realized Chang wasn't going to add to my burden of guilt. I could take care of that all by myself, thank you very much!

"I have some thoughts on the subject," he added, sitting straighter, and frowning in concentration. "First, I told Maxwell he's to leave the door of whatever room he's in open at all times."

I snorted. "I imagine that went over well."

"Actually, he had no objections. He simply informed me that it was my call, but that he sleeps in the nude, and if he kicked off the covers overnight and I got a free show, it would be my problem, not his."

An involuntary chuckle slipped past at the smart-assed remark, and at the dry way Chang delivered it. "God help us." Yeah, I'd need all the help I could get—the last thing I needed was to see Maxwell naked again any time soon.

"Furthermore, I told him the bounty on his head had been increased, and that if he had a genuine death wish, he should let us know, so we could simply collect it and save ourselves a lot of trouble."

This time I did laugh, almost wishing I'd been there for what sounded like a terribly amusing conversation. When I pulled myself together, I raised an eyebrow. "Were you serious?"

"Half," he shrugged, straight-faced. "At any rate, he took the scolding well enough. He seemed much calmer than he was earlier, and possibly even a bit—sorry?"

Ah—that accounted for Wufei's good humor. Maxwell must have turned on the charm and acted remorseful enough to appease him. So a situation that might have created even more friction in our already tense relationship, actually hadn't. And I was glad for that.

"I think maybe he realizes that what he did was colossally stupid," I conceded, beginning to feel less like a total fuck-up. As Chang had pointed out, it was time to stop wallowing in guilt and self-doubt, and get my act together like the professional I was. "Speaking of which, we should pack the SUV just in case."

"I agree. I've already put in the non-perishable groceries and most of our luggage. All that remains is Maxwell's backpack, in which he's got the bare essentials, and the tote in our room with your change of clothes. And, of course, the laptop."

"You were busy while I was gone," I noted, feeling like a slacker.

"It kept me from throttling Maxwell," he pointed out. "If you'd gone for groceries instead of me, I can't say I'd have brought him back here alive. You aren't the screw-up you're thinking you are, Yuy."

"And you aren't the hardass you pretend to be," I retorted with a smirk. I stood and stretched, feeling a wave of total exhaustion. "I'll go check the surveillance again, and maybe steal a protein bar from the supplies, if it's okay."

"I left a couple out, figuring after the evening you had, you might need the nourishment."

I frowned, darting him a quick glance. Had Maxwell _told_ him?

"Why's that?" I asked as casually as I could. Surely if he knew what we'd done, he'd have said a lot more than that…right?

"Stress burns a lot of calories," my partner said with a shrug. "And you had more than your share." He shook his head. "Although, I'll admit I wish I'd seen your face when you found him gone."

"Asshole," I muttered, once again feeling a wave of relief as I headed for the kitchen.

"After you eat, why don't you catch a couple of hours of sleep?" suggested the "asshole" graciously. "I'm rather interested in this show, and I can certainly monitor the security system while I watch."

That was true enough. The laptop was set to put out a chiming alarm if any of the sensors were tripped when it was in monitor mode. Aside from listening for a warning, there wasn't much to do.

"Chang—you are a prince," I said with genuine warmth, knowing he had to be at least as tired as I was. Although he'd had a full eight hours of sleep the night before, he'd been up all day, and allowed me a nap earlier. But I think he knew how deep my exhaustion ran, and that he was far from reaching his limit yet. "Wake me as soon as you start to feel tired." I added, not wanting to take advantage of his generosity.

"You have my word on it," he said firmly. "Now go sleep, and we'll have a fresh start in the morning."

* * *

I woke up uneasy, casting about in the dark for a reason for my tension.

"Yuy!" came a harsh, urgent whisper.

I was on my feet in a flash, pulling on my boots before running to the door. "Chang? What's up?"

"Something set off one of your motion sensors." I could see my partner's outline against the wall in the hallway. He'd doused any lights in the house before coming after me. "Considering Maxwell's little escapade last evening, I didn't think I should brush it off as a cat or dog."

"Good call," I replied. "I set the sensors at various heights. Which one was triggered?"

"A-4."

"Would've had to be the world's tallest cat or dog—that one's chest-high near the wood shed."

"Fuck." I heard the safety click off his gun. "You wake Maxwell. I'll clear the path to the garage so we can get the hell out of here."

I was already in motion, drawing my own weapon and easing down the hall to Maxwell's room. I was grateful for the open door, and slipped inside, padding silently over to his bed.

"Maxwe—." As I put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake, a knife settled against my throat.

His eyes blinked open a second later, and he scowled up at me. "Yuy?" he said in a voice thick with sleep.

"We've been made," I said tersely, using one finger to push his wrist, and thus the switchblade, away from my neck. "Get dressed."

"Fuck." He threw off the covers, revealing himself in all his nude glory for a mere instant, before he yanked on the pants he'd tossed over a chair. He donned a shirt and boots and grabbed his backpack. "Goddamnit, goddamnit…" he muttered under his breath in a mantra. "Just like the fuckin' penthouse."

"But we don't have a fire escape." I caught his arm as he headed for the door. "Behind me, Maxwell. Stay close, and be quiet. Don't give anyone a target. And if we get separated, get to the SUV any way you can."

"Yes, mother," he drawled snidely, sidling up behind me until I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.

"Now isn't the time—."

He chuckled huskily. "Not gettin' fresh, Yuy. Honest. You said to stay close."

I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see me blush.

Even as we made our way towards the rendezvous with Wufei, I heard the sound of breaking glass, and a small canister sailed through the living room window, rolling towards the narrow hall.

"Shit. Tear gas!" I grabbed Maxwell's wrist, dragging him into a sprint down the hall.

Up ahead I heard a volley of shots.

_A fucking volley? _How many people were in on this attack?

"Chang?"

"Here," came a short response, near the door from the kitchen to the garage. "Estimate two shooters out front…one out back…possibly others going for the roof or the garage."

Maxwell leaned closer to me. "Gimme a gun, Yuy. I can help."

"You aren't supposed to," I snapped.

"Little late for that. You've got a spare, don't you?"

"In the goddamned car," I growled in frustration. I could hear the hiss of spreading tear gas behind us, and knew it was just a matter of seconds before we'd be overtaken by it. "Chang! I'm sending him across." Without asking, I shoved Maxwell ahead of me into the kitchen.

To his credit, he didn't argue or hesitate, but kept low and scurried across until he was tucked in behind Wufei.

"Get to the SUV while I grab the laptop!" I told Chang, dashing for the study and yanking the hookups free of the slender computer.

There was more shooting, and I could hear my partner cursing in Mandarin, and a litany of swearing from Maxwell.

"Pinned down!" Chang called to me.

As I came out of the study, the kitchen window burst in a shower of glass, and a dark-clad figure hurtled through it, gun aimed right at the two crouched by the door. I dove across the intervening space, holding out the laptop as a shield between Maxwell and the shooter, while simultaneously taking a snap shot that sent the gunman staggering back into the refrigerator.

"Get unpinned!" I urged Chang, dashing over so that Maxwell was now sandwiched between us.

"On it!" He pulled open the door, ducking back to avoid shots coming through the side window of the garage, and then throwing himself into a forward shoulder roll into the area between the car and the steps. He grabbed something from a corner, flinging it towards the window and firing at it.

A ball of flame erupted from the object, and I was so startled I almost missed the "Run Yuy!" he yelled at me.

Maxwell's hand closed on my wrist and he dragged me with him down the steps and between vehicles, to the SUV, while I distractedly realized the object Chang had thrown must have been a gas or solvent can of some sort. Quick thinking! I'd have to tell him how impressed I was later.

Maxwell jerked open the back door, and dove inside; then I kicked it shut, snapping off a couple of shots towards the door of the house. Several return shots ricocheted around me as I scrambled for the passenger door.

Chang was already in the vehicle and gunning the engine, and as soon as I was in, he slammed it into reverse and floored it.

We careened backwards, crashing through the garage door, and my partner cut the wheel, spinning a one-eighty in a cloud of dust and a shower of pebbles. Then he threw it into forward gear and spun the tires a little as we sped out of range of the hail of bullets.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, they want you dead!" he snarled, never taking his eyes from the road ahead.

Maxwell started to lean on the back of the seat, and I shoved him down. "The floor, Maxwell! Stay on the fuckin' floor!"

He obeyed me with surprising alacrity, wedging himself behind the seats, tucked down on the floor of the vehicle, and just in time. More shots rang out from the trees beside the road, tearing through the metal of the car as if it were paper.

"Goddamn!" I blurted,as the window beside me shattered, showering Chang and me with glass. "Faster Wufei!"

"I'm on it!"

We rounded a corner and my partner cut the wheel hard, taking a side road in an attempt to evade pursuit.

Headlights were closing on us already, and I flung myself over the back seat, digging into the equipment in the rear to find one of the rifles Chang and I had brought.

"Gimme your hand gun," Maxwell said, suddenly right beside me.

"Stay down!" I snapped.

"I can at least fire some warning shots while you load that thing!" he retorted, tugging my gun from the holster I'd tucked it in before going after the rifle.

Before I could raise another objection, he was leaning over the seat beside me, taking aim and shooting out the rear window, which gave him a wide-open view of our pursuers. My hands closed on the rifle, and as I pulled it out, along with a box of rounds, Maxwell fired again, taking out one of the headlights chasing us.

"Nice shot," I murmured, hastily shoving bullets into the chamber.

"I'm not without skills," he replied cockily, firing again and shattering a windshield.

By then I had the rifle ready, and took careful aim over the luggage in the rear of the SUV. I was after the driver of the car closest to us, and my snap shot must have found its mark, since the vehicle careened wildly off the road after I fired.

"Not half bad yourself," Maxwell crooned, scowling in disappointment when he tried to fire again and was out of bullets. "Shit—you're on your own," he muttered, diving back onto the floor as I continued to pump rounds at the vehicles still chasing us.

"Going four-wheeling!" Wufei called, just before he wrestled the vehicle around a corner and onto a dirt road that led into thick forest.

"Ah, shit!" I yelped as the first bump threw me almost into the ceiling.

"Hold tight!"

I grabbed the back of the seat, giving up shooting in favor of keeping from being flung around inside the car like a rag doll.

We were steadily climbing, and our pursuers were falling behind, until at last only one seemed able to keep up. The paleness of pre-dawn enabled me to see that it was a black SUV, at least the equal of our vehicle. And had I been able to release my death grip on the seat, I'd have happily tried to cap the driver.

Instead, Wufei took the initiative; when we emerged onto pavement again, he slowed down a bit, allowing the other vehicle to gain on us, as we wound our way up a treacherous, twisted mountain road.

"What are you doing, Chang?"

"The sign said 'narrow road ahead,'" he called back. "I'm inviting them closer in the hopes of disabling them permanently."

I hated it when he was cryptic.

"Whatever you're going to do—do it fast!" I hollered as our pursuers started shooting again.

There was a man leaning out the passenger window, leveling a sniper rifle at us, and I dared let go of the seat in order to raise my gun and snap off a shot to discourage him.

"No! Let them come alongside!" Wufei ordered sharply.

"You've got to be joking!"

"I never joke!"

"They're all yours," I told him, throwing myself over Maxwell as a shield, while the black SUV drew even with us.

And then Chang jerked the wheel so sharply, I wondered if he'd been hit by a lucky shot, and I felt the crunch and grind of metal on metal.

Oh.

Again he swerved, slamming into the side of our pursuer, vying for position on the road.

"Yes!" he cried victoriously.

I sat up just in time to watch the other car careen wildly to the side, flipping and tumbling off the side of the mountain we were climbing.

"Holy fucking shit," I heard Maxwell mutter in amazement, having pushed himself up enough to watch with me.

I was momentarily aware of the heat of his body in our close quarters; we were both trembling with the rush of adrenaline, panting from exertion and excitement. And I had to quell the urge to lean in and kiss his parted lips—to feel the way his heart pounded against mine again.

God—not now!

"Yuy—get up here and drag a map out of the glove box!" Chang urged, accelerating a bit more as the car labored on the incline.

I scrambled away from Maxwell and over the front seat to take shotgun again, rummaging for a map in the compartment. "Here. Perfect. We must be—." I looked out the window, taking a quick estimate of direction, and factoring in the mountainous road we were on. "Here!" I decided, seeing a meandering line that wound its way up a mountain. "Keep going and take the next left—in about a mile. It'll take us far away from well-traveled roads, and head us towards our backup safe house."

"We have backups?" Maxwell's voice came from behind me, as he pulled himself up from the floor.

"Several," I said curtly. "The closest one is a day's drive."

"We won't make it," Chang predicted. "The engine's already making strange noises. I think it got shot up pretty badly."

"Better it than us," I sighed.

My partner glanced at my lap, and I frowned in confusion. "You may have spoken too soon," he said quietly, nodding towards my leg.

I looked down, and sure enough, the thigh of my pants was soaked in blood. "Fuck."

Too exhausted to deal with it right then, I merely brushed my fingers over the wound to make sure it was a gash, and that a bullet hadn't gone in, and then I pressed a handful of napkins from the glove box over it, putting on enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

"It'll be okay," I told him. "Just a deep scratch, Wufei."

He nodded, and I watched the tension drain from his face. "When the vehicle's condition forces us to stop, we can take care of you."

"Sounds lovely," I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat and closing my eyes, letting the motion of the car lull me into a half-doze.

* * *

By dawn, we'd lost any sign of pursuit, and it was a damned good thing. The battered SUV was sputtering and chugging, the bullet-ridden engine nearing its last gasp. We were going to end up walking before the day was over.

Chang pulled onto a logging road, trying to get far enough off the pavement to completely hide us and the vehicle. But before reaching solid cover, it gave up the ghost, expiring with a last pop and ping of broken parts.

"Fuck!"

I groaned, thinking about how hard it was going to be for the three of us to push the battered and abused vehicle out of sight.

"Status?" asked Chang.

I blinked wearily, looking over at him. "Functional."

"What're you—a goddamned machine?" Maxwell growled from the back seat, pushing up off the faded upholstery.

"What do you want me to say?" I snapped in response. "I've got a bullet graze across one thigh, I'm fuckin' exhausted, and I have a headache that morphine wouldn't cure?"

He paused, blinking and then smiling faintly. "At least that's honest."

We got out and started pulling our gear out of the back of the SUV. And as I wrapped a quick bandage of gauze around my injured leg, I counted us lucky. We'd lost much of the food and some of our clothing at the safe house—but the vehicle was still loaded with our camping gear, spare clothing and travel rations, and a disposable cell phone…as well as our extra weapons and ammo. We also had a power booster to help with communications, but when I retrieved my laptop from the seat where I'd tossed it, I muttered a curse.

"Problem?" asked Chang.

"Yeah," I said dryly. "The laptop sacrificed itself to save Maxwell." I held it up to show him the bullet holes that had torn the guts out of my much-used and much-needed computer.

Wufei raised an eyebrow, a faint twitch of a smirk touching one side of his mouth. "Better it than you," he said firmly—warmly.

"But how will we—?"

"Later," he said curtly, suddenly all business again. "Right now let's pack up, shove this useless piece of crap out of sight behind those trees, and get the hell out of here."

I was breaking down the equipment into three loads when I saw Maxwell standing by the car, looking oddly transfixed. Walking over to him, I followed his gaze to the line of bullet holes in the door and the matching ones along the back seat. If he'd been there instead of on the floor, we'd be calling it a closed case and going home. It was some very precise, very professional gun work.

"You ready to start taking this seriously?" I asked quietly.

He swallowed and nodded, looking even more subdued than he had on the way back from the club. I quelled the impulse to feel sorry for him, recalling what he'd done afterwards.

Chang walked over and unceremoniously shoved a backpack into Maxwell's arms. "Carry your own weight, Maxwell. Do as we say. And we might get you out of this alive."

He shook his head dubiously, looking at those bullet holes again.

"C'mon," I chided. "Don't tell me it's the first time anyone's tried to kill you."

"No—just the closest anyone's come." He shouldered the pack and followed Wufei to the rest of the gear, apparently ready to behave.

The three of us, with much straining, groaning, and cursing, managed to get the dead vehicle rolling across the rugged terrain, and were able to get it out of sight. We threw some loose branches over it for a bit of extra camouflage, brushed away the tracks as much as possible and then took our equipment and set out on our overland trek.

* * *

I didn't check in with the Captain until we stopped for lunch on a scenic overlook that gave us a clear view of nearby roads, not that there were many—and hopefully decent cell reception, since it was the only communication device I had. I used the power booster with the spare battery to send the signal via satellite instead of cell tower, but I'd have to keep the call short or risk using it up.

"Captain Po's office…"

"Relena…Heero. I need to talk to the Captain _now_."

There was a gasp on the other end of the line. "Heero! Thank God you're alive!" Relena breathed. "It's all over the news about Mister Winner's hunting cabin being the scene of some big shoot-out."

"Fuck!" I hissed under my breath.

"No—it's okay. The reporters have no idea there was anyone there, or any link to this department. They're saying it was some hunters who were on drugs or something and vandalized the place, then torched it. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Get me the Captain."

"Right away."

Captain Po's voice came on the line next. "What happened, Yuy?"

There was no point in being vague or trying to use codes; we'd been compromised already, and I needed some straight answers. "I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me. Somehow someone knew where to find us. And even though Maxwell slipped his leash for a few hours yesterday, I can't believe he just happened across anyone with the firepower those guys at the cabin had. This wasn't a random sighting gone bad. It looks to me like they were sent right to us, loaded for bear."

"I've got taps on Khushrenada's phone. I'll see what last night's logs look like—who could have tipped him off."

"And can you check that web site?"

"We got it shut down a couple of hours after I spoke to you. I'm sure they'll have it back up under another heading—but even if they do, there was no contact information for Khushrenada or his people. All it did was direct people to go after Maxwell, and then put in a claim for the prize."

So no one had seen the ad, spotted Maxwell and notified Khushrenada. How then was he able to get a group of people with the numbers and skill we'd encountered to show up at the log cabin? He'd have had to know exactly where we were.

"Either way, we have to go to safe house number two," I told my boss. "But we're on foot. The SUV got shot to Hell and we had to ditch it. It'll probably take us two days to hike to the new place. But meanwhile, can you send a cleanup crew to retrieve what they can from the cabin, and arrange a car we can pick up after we get settled?"

"You'll find a car at the next safe house," she replied. "Winner already saw to that. And there's a security system in place…he said you'd know the access code."

I smiled to myself. "Yes, we worked that out in advance."

"Go there and set up housekeeping. But don't plan for a permanent stay. The reporters were all over the so-called vandalism of Winner property—anyone with half a brain now knows he helped hide you. They'll be looking for you anywhere he owns land."

"Yes, but the place we're going isn't in his name. It's under one of his sisters'. Since there's twenty-nine of them and half are married, that should give us a little breathing room."

"Still—eventually you'd better expect to have to move again."

"Eventually. For now, we have to concentrate on getting there. I'll check in again tomorrow and let you know our progress."

"And I'll keep pushing for the indictment. Once we have a trial date, we can see about bringing you boys home."

"That'd be—nice," I said wearily, feeling the sting of the slash across my thigh. "Hope there's a good first aid kit at the place we're going."

"Who's injured?" came an alarmed voice.

"Just me," I reassured her. "Your star witness is unscathed, except for suddenly having to face his mortality. I think he's ready to settle down and behave."

"Find out if he saw anyone familiar during his little outing," she urged. "And when we have a secure line where you aren't on reserve power, I want to hear how that happened in the first place."

"No, you don't," I sighed. "But you will."

My talk with Captain Po renewed my annoyance with Maxwell, and I put away the equipment and hiked back to where he and Chang were resting.

"C'mon," I said shortly. "We've got to cover several more miles before dark." I eyed Maxwell challengingly as I said that, almost hoping he'd whine or protest—anything to give me an excuse to unload on him.

But he simply straightened from where he'd been leaning against a tree, wriggled his shoulders to loosen them, and hefted his backpack.

Wufei and I exchanged a look; I think we were both a bit surprised by his calm acceptance and stoic tolerance of our unpleasant situation.

* * *

Mid afternoon saw Maxwell's determination slipping, as he took a misstep on a rocky slope and nearly tumbled to the bottom. He barely caught himself on a tree branch in time to regain his footing.

"Fucking, goddamned _wilderness_!" he blurted in frustration. He dared a glance back at me, scowling as I strode confidently down the treacherous path. "How come you never trip over all the crap that's in the way?"

"I look where I'm going," I shrugged, continuing past him.

Chang paused long enough to sneer at our witness. "He also has balance and coordination, Maxwell, which you clearly lack."

I didn't necessarily agree with that. I'd fought with Duo—I knew how nimble he was, and how quick on his feet. In fact, I was surprised he seemed so lacking in the grace I'd noticed about his movements.

"I've got coordination," Maxwell shot back. "Just—I'm worn out. This isn't the kind of exercise I'm used to."

"That's right," I muttered snidely. "The footing is level in a dance club, isn't it?"

He turned to retort, and made the mistake of letting go of the branch. He promptly slid the rest of the way down the slope, cursing and scrambling until he ended up in a near-heap at the bottom.

I sighed, walking over to help him to his feet—but he ignored my outstretched hand and got up on his own, brushing dirt and debris from his clothes. He spared me a single glare as he was slapping dust from the seat of his pants, and I caught the faintest hint of a wince.

Fuck! I'd almost forgotten about our little romp on the safe house floor. He had to be a bit sore from that, no matter how often he indulged. I hadn't exactly been gentle, or held back. And the twinge of guilt I felt was mixed with a tingling rush of arousal at the memory. This was definitely _not _the time for indulging in daydreams.

Maxwell was muttering imprecations under his breath as he hoisted the pack he'd dropped, and slipped it back over his shoulders. But his grumbling subsided as the ground leveled, and the path got a bit smoother and easier to follow.

It also widened a bit, allowing Chang to come up alongside me. "How much further do you think we can go before dark?"

I glanced up at the sunlight slanting through the tall pines, and shrugged. "If the terrain stays as is, maybe another ten miles, tops."

"Even with your injury?"

I glared briefly at him. "I hadn't been aware of slowing us down," I said curtly. "Am I?"

"No! But—."

"Then save your breath for walking, Wufei. We'll stop when it gets too dark to go on."

Maxwell glanced back over his shoulder, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Dark?" he asked warily. "You mean we're going to be out here overnight? In the woods?"

I nodded.

"With the bears?" came a decidedly worried query.

This time I darted a glare at my partner. "You just had to go and mention them, didn't you?"

"That was days ago, Yuy. Honestly, you'd think he'd have forgotten by now!"

I noticed our witness looking from side to side a bit more, obviously scanning the forest around us for signs of wildlife. "Relax, Maxwell," I chided. "If Chang and I could get you through that shooting gallery back at Winner's place, we can sure as hell keep you from becoming bear bait. Besides, they hardly ever come near humans; they're just as afraid of us as we are of them."

He looked rather unconvinced as he glanced back at me. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maxwell, I couldn't care less how you feel," I said flatly.

I got a hint of a smirk and raised eyebrow for my trouble, and I thought I heard him mutter "Wanna bet?"

I felt an immediate rush of warmth to my groin as I recalled exactly how he felt—pressed up against me—pinned down on the floor by my body. And I had to swallow a groan, and try to will away the tantalizing memory.

I heard his husky chuckle, even though he kept walking and didn't look back again. Damn him, anyway! He was going to push this, wasn't he? Tease and taunt, and test the waters until there was no way Chang would fail to notice. And my shrewd partner might have been naïve, but he wasn't stupid—he'd figure it out, eventually. No matter how I controlled my reactions, sooner or later he'd put all the pieces together, and know that I was gay.

And I could just imagine how he'd react to a revelation like _that_.


	20. Trail Blazing

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty: Trail Blazing

We made camp when darkness forced us to, choosing a spot deep in the forest, not too far from water, and with the shelter of a rock ledge along one side. I used a tarp to make a lean-to, since the mountain night promised to be cool; but we didn't cut branches to make a bed, or even put together a fire. The idea was to leave virtually no trail, and any construction of a camp would alert pursuers to our presence, as well as how long we stayed.

I unfolded a blanket from one of the packs, and settled onto the ground on it, grimacing at the ache in my wounded leg.

"How bad, Yuy?" asked my partner, crouching to hand me a ration bar and a bottle of water.

"I think the walking is keeping it loose," I said with a shrug. I'd hastily wrapped it in gauze that morning before we began our trek, and the fabric was now damp with sweat and blood.

"Can you tend to it yourself?" he asked. "I should backtrack and watch for pursuit."

"I'm fine, Chang," I bit out coolly. "Get to your job!"

He slipped off into the darkness, and I leaned back against a tree, sighing wearily.

The next thing I knew, Maxwell was at my side with the first aid kit in hand. "Here. Let me clean it up and rewrap it for you," he said quietly, putting a hand on my thigh.

Putting a very _warm_ hand on my thigh.

I caught his wrist in an iron grip, fixing him with a piercing glare. "Keep your hands off me," I growled threateningly, tightening my fingers so he'd know I was serious.

The indigo eyes shot me a startled look—a sort of wounded, deer-in-the-headlights look—and his jaw tensed at my bone-crushing grip. "Yuy—," he gasped involuntarily.

I released his arm, and he pulled back, putting his free hand on it to massage the wrist.

"I'll do it myself," I said gruffly, feeling a blush of shame as I realized I'd genuinely hurt him.

He frowned, and then stubbornly picked up the kit he'd dropped. "Let me."

"No."

His hand had begun to reach towards my sodden bandage again, but at my sharply spoken word he stopped the motion, staring searchingly at my face. Then rather suddenly he thrust the first aid kit into my hands. "Have it your way, Yuy," he muttered bitterly. "I won't lay a fuckin' hand on you again." He stood up and turned away. "If my touch repulses you so damned much…" he added in an undertone as he walked back to his own corner of the lean-to.

How was I supposed to explain that it wasn't aversion to his touch that caused my extreme reaction? It was because I knew how _good_ that touch felt. I didn't dare let him get that close to me again. Even having the warm, soothing hand on my leg had made me recall the heat of his kiss and the visceral pleasure of being buried inside him. I wasn't about to let him unwrap the wound—to feel the bare skin of his hand against my thigh.

My hands weren't quite steady as I pulled the dressing off and used some bottled water to rinse the angry furrow of red flesh. Without removing my pants, I cleaned the wound as best I could, and put some antiseptic cream on it; then I used fresh gauze to cover it with a thick layer of protection. I ended up with a soggy pant leg—but that was preferable to being half-naked in the middle of the wilderness with Duo Maxwell.

He had his back to me the whole time, having wrapped up in his blanket and huddled against a tree trunk, gazing out into the inky blackness of night in the forest. I bit my tongue to refrain from apologizing, or trying to say something to erase the wounded look from his face. I tried to tell myself he deserved it; I'd rejected his advances from the very beginning. If he hadn't been so persistent—so determined to force something physical—it wouldn't be an issue.

But really, how much of that had been him, and how much had been me? If I hadn't been attracted to him, he could have held a howitzer on me and I wouldn't have responded the way I did. How could he not see that?

A twig snapped, and Maxwell shot to his feet, whirling and dropping the blanket, even as he pulled the switchblade. I was a bit slower, my leg having stiffened up from sitting; but I staggered upright and drew my gun.

"It's me—Chang," came a whisper from the dark.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Maxwell breathed in an explosive sigh.

"No—Detective Chang," I said dryly, my own heart pounding so hard it's a wonder it wasn't audible.

"Fine fuckin' time to grow a sense of humor," muttered Maxwell.

Wufei melted out of the darkness, glancing behind him. "All clear out there," he announced. "If they found the car, it must have been late enough to give us a healthy head start."

"Healthy," Maxwell echoed. "I like the sound of that." He even mustered a wan smile. "It's how I'd like to stay."

Chang snorted. "If I were you—I'd settle for 'alive,' and count myself lucky."

"If you were me, you wouldn't have that stick up your ass," came the swift, snide reply.

"No, it'd be someone's dick," Chang shot back without missing a beat.

Maxwell's jaw dropped and his eyes widened—then he gave a short, irrepressible burst of laughter. "Shit, Chang—nice comeback," he said appreciatively. Then, clearly unable to resist temptation, he let his gaze slide from my partner's dark, scorching eyes all the way down to his feet. "Y'got a lot of nice things," he purred slyly.

"And they'll stay mine," retorted Wufei, shaking his head. He turned away before Maxwell could come up with another witty rejoinder. "Yuy—why don't you catch a couple of hours of sleep? I'll wake you for your shift around midnight."

"I could help watch," Maxwell offered.

"No!" Chang and I blurted in unison.

"You already ran off once," I reminded our wayward charge.

"There's nowhere to run off to out here," he replied with a scowl.

"You are in our keeping," Wufei said firmly. "It is Yuy and I who are responsible for protecting you. Putting you at risk defeats that purpose."

Maxwell made an expansive gesture with his arms. "Y'think I'm not at risk right here?" he asked in exasperation.

I glared hotly at him. "We're well aware of how vulnerable our position is, Maxwell. That's why we're trying to get to the next safe house as quickly as possible. The sooner we have four solid walls around us and a roof over our heads, the better."

"Meanwhile," Chang added. "You can help by carrying your share of the gear, keeping your mouth shut, and obeying our orders without question."

The expression on Maxwell's face might have been comical under other circumstances. His eyes widened impossibly, and he opened and closed his mouth as if searching for adequately expressive curses. Finally he just shook his head, turning back to pick up his blanket, muttering under his breath. I didn't catch all of it, but certain words stood out from the rest of the mumbled tirade. "Fucking pigs…anal pricks…God complex…Nazi bastard dictators…"

There was more, but I gratefully tuned it out after the first thirty seconds or so.

"Wake me when it's my turn to take the watch," I told Chang, pulling a blanket around my shoulders and settling onto one of the backpacks for a pillow.

* * *

When my partner let me sleep until almost one a.m. I began to think he was getting a little soft, and I told him as much, even as I dragged myself to my feet and limped around trying to loosen up my sore leg.

He shrugged. "So you'll owe me an hour some other time." He glanced at Maxwell's blanket-huddled form. The braided man had curled up against a tree, and apparently fallen asleep in that same position. "How does he sleep sitting up like that?"

"He doesn't," came a rather raspy voice, and indigo eyes opened, fixing both of us with a weary, pained look.

Wufei put his hands on his hips. "Sorry the cold, dark forest isn't up to your standards, Maxwell."

He got a vicious glare for his trouble. "I fuckin' slept behind dumpsters when I was a kid, Chang…without a blanket…half the time without a goddamned shirt. Leaves are a step up from that."

"Then why can't you sleep?" I asked, and then was immediately sorry I'd fallen for the lead-in. I reminded myself it was no concern of mine whether he slept or not; so why had I asked?

"There are people out there trying to kill me, Yuy. You figure it out."

With that snide parting shot, he curled back up in his blanket, closing his eyes again and effectively ending the conversation. And since when had he ever been the one to cut things short? Usually it was Wufei or I that told him to shut up, or who walked away to terminate the exchange.

Something had changed—and I wasn't sure I liked it.

As much as I wanted Maxwell to take our situation seriously, I didn't want him to live in constant fear—he'd only wear himself out with worry, and that wouldn't help any of us. But I didn't know how to assuage those fears, or take his mind off the worry. I'd never been good with emotions; my usual answer was to bottle them up or dismiss them altogether. And those were my own feelings; I knew even less about dealing with other people's.

Wufei took my spot while I hiked back along our previous trail, listening for any disturbance to the sounds of the crickets, or the chirps of the tree frogs. Before becoming a cop, I'd been a boy scout (don't even go there!) and spent a lot of time out camping and mountaineering—so I knew a bit about wilderness survival and how to read the signs of nature. If anyone was ghosting around out in that darkness, there'd be a stillness that would give them away.

I was never so happy to hear the shrill noise of the spring peepers or the persistent cricket sounds.

I let my partner sleep until the sky began to pale in the pre-dawn hours, by which time I'd covered quite a bit of ground, and found no sign of any pursuit.

Not that whoever had attacked us could really carry on a comprehensive search; I was certain there were enough police departments in on the investigation of the "vandalism" of Winner's cabin to make things too hot for any illicit operations. But thinking about it led me back to wondering who they'd been and how they'd found us.

Supposedly no one at the precinct knew anything about the Khushrenada case. But frankly, I knew how quickly gossip could spread. The fact that Chang and I were gone was enough to alert others that we had a reason to be absent. And it wouldn't take a genius to figure out it had a connection to Khushrenada…or that we'd had a potential witness in custody.

The leap to guessing we were off hiding that witness wasn't a long one.

Hell, the name Duo Maxwell had been plastered all over a web site. And it was for sure anyone in the police department could find the link between Maxwell and Winner.

But Quatre Winner owned lots of property, in several states and a couple of foreign countries. How the hell had they narrowed it down to one log cabin in the remote wilderness?

And no, it never once crossed my mind to suspect Winner. If he wanted Maxwell dead, I had no doubt it would already have happened. Only the attorney's generosity and backing had kept us alive this long.

But that made ascertaining the leak quite a bit harder. Relena had answered Po's phone the first time I called—but I'd called from a cell, using a number that had no geographical specificity. She had no idea where we were. And while she knew, or guessed, what we were up to, she couldn't give anyone a precise location for us. Why would she anyway? She was the police chief's daughter.

That led me to Captain Po—and I'd already decided if I had to relinquish my trust in my Captain, I might as well hang up my badge and gun. As with Winner, if she'd sold us out, we'd already be dead.

My meandering thoughts had kept pace with my feet, and I was back at the makeshift camp as the sun began to rise.

* * *

It didn't take us long to get back under way, although we did learn the definition of "roughing it," by having to make do with bushes for a bathroom, cold protein bars for breakfast, and energy drinks instead of hot coffee.

I expected Maxwell to whine. In fact, I wanted him to. I was cold, tired, sore, and frustrated—not to mention tense and fearful. And I desperately wanted someone to blame for it all.

But he got up without whining, helped pack up our blankets and obliterate what traces of a camp we'd made, and didn't say a word about the lack of hot food or bathroom facilities.

I was tempted to ask who he was and what he'd done with Duo Maxwell, but I was frankly too tired for sarcasm.

Chang led the way, when we set out on the second leg of our journey. With compass and map in hand, he did an impressive job of keeping us on track…right up until we came to the goddamned river.

"Fuck," I muttered concisely, frustrated by the fact that the thin squiggle on the map had failed to illustrate the depth and breadth of the river.

Not that it was impossibly wide, and for at least ten feet from the bank, it appeared shallow, but beyond that were some deceptively smooth stretches that promised greater depth.

Maxwell finally showed a trace of petulance then, allowing the packs he'd been hauling to fall to the ground. "Great," he muttered sullenly. "Now I not only get to be terrorized and sleep-deprived. I get to enjoy being fucking soaking wet and freezing!"

"Don't be such a baby," Chang said curtly, laying aside the stuff he'd been hauling. "It's not that deep. We can probably wade across, or hop from one rock to another." He gave our witness a contemptuous look down his aquiline nose. "You won't even get your precious ass wet."

Maxwell mustered a smirk at that. "You can keep an eye on it to be sure I don't," he suggested cheekily.

"In your dreams."

"Oh, if you only knew what's in 'em." Maxwell darted a sidelong glance at me, and I felt myself blush.

Fuck! I'd known sooner or later he'd get around to taunting me with reminders of our—lapse in sanity. As if I needed them. No matter how dire our situation, the memory of making lo—fucking Maxwell—was always at the edges of my consciousness. _And _my conscience.

"Chang—cut a pole for testing the depth," I suggested, sitting and unlacing my boots. There was no point in wearing them across the river and having to walk the rest of the day in wet boots. They'd only end up blistering my feet.

"You're serious," Maxwell said with a mixture of irritation and resignation. He gave a frustrated huff, and plunked himself down on the ground to remove his boots.

He was done in record time, fastening the laces together and slinging the footwear over a shoulder. Now how did he know to do that?

He caught my curious look and smirked. "Second story work, Yuy," he said in answer to the unspoken question. "Stockinged feet are quieter than shoes."

So he'd learned that little trick breaking and entering? Swell.

Chang was still hacking away at a fallen tree limb to detach a sturdy pole, and I began tying up our gear so we could haul it across one bundle at a time and keep it dry.

Maxwell went ahead and started wading cautiously into the clear mountain stream. "Fucking _cold_!" he declared as he got in past his calves. "Jesus, Yuy, my feet are going numb already."

"They'll match your head!" Wufei called, walking up beside me with his depth tester.

"Har-har," came the snide reply.

"You might want to wait," I cautioned Maxwell. "The water's so clear it'll look shallower than it—."

At that point he took a confident step forward and plunged under the water like a rock.

Wufei and I eyed the clear water for a moment, and then my partner spoke up.

"What do you suppose the odds are that Maxwell can swim?"

I crossed my arms. "Hm…considering his background and lifestyle…slim to none."

Our eyes met as we both reached the same conclusion. "Oh shit!"

I knew Wufei was right beside me as I tossed my boots aside to keep them dry, and dove headfirst into the deceptively deep pool of water, swimming for the bottom as quickly as possible.

Maxwell had been right. The water _was _freezing. It almost took my breath away as I struggled against the current to reach my hapless witness.

And then I saw the flash of a pale hand, and grabbed Maxwell's wrist, even as Chang reached the other one. A moment later, all three of us broke the surface, my partner and I striking out for the far shore towing our sputtering charge.

Sure enough, just past the deep pool, the water got shallower again, and we were able to stand, dragging Maxwell along to the river bank.

"J-Jesus C-Christ!" he stammered, shivering uncontrollably as we stumbled onto the shore. He fell to his knees on the riverbank, coughing and spitting out water. "How f-fuckin' long w-were y-you g-g-gonna wait?" he managed to choke out.

"It was all of ten or fifteen seconds, tops," Wufei said drolly.

"S-seemed like hours!" blurted Maxwell, letting himself fall face-down on the sandy shore.

"Get up," I said, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Move around to warm up."

"Don' wanna," whined Maxwell, rolling onto his back and holding up his arms. "_You_ warm me up."

I nudged at him with a foot. "Seriously, Maxwell. Get up!"

Muttering curses, he stumbled to his feet, coughing some more and giving Chang and me accusing looks. "S'posed to keep me alive," he grumbled through lips that looked a little blue. "Let me fuckin' drown…"

"We didn't let you drown or you wouldn't be here," I pointed out, trying not to notice how much he looked like an adorable little waif, all sodden and huddled into himself. His bangs were plastered to his face, water trickling down and dripping off his chin. The word "bedraggled" came to mind, and I compressed my lips into a tight line to keep from smirking.

Chang had been walking along the bank, trying to find a shallower ford to carry our stuff across, and he let out a triumphant yelp. "Perfect." He stepped from rock to rock through a stretch of white water, and then hopped into knee-deep water and walked out the other side of the stream. "Hey, Yuy! Found a crossing!" he called over his shoulder as he picked up the first of the duffel bags.

"No shit." I looked at Maxwell, who was rubbing his arms and shivering violently. "You should have waited for us," I told him with a frown. "You're too impetuous, Maxwell."

He shrugged, stomping his feet to warm them up. "Not used to waiting up for other people, Yuy. I usually work alone."

"From now on, you let us lead," I cautioned.

Chang had carried the first of the luggage across, and walked over to set it next to us. "There should be towels in that one." He eyed Maxwell and shook his head. "You might've mentioned you didn't know how to swim when we first encountered water, you know."

Maxwell glared back. "You're a fuckin' detective. Y'think the alley I grew up in had a rich-ass in-ground pool, or that I could afford a membership to the YMCA? Jesus, Chang. Use your brain."

"I do," came the lofty reply. "You'll notice I'm not the one who stepped into ten feet of water."

"It looked shallow!" was Maxwell's defensive retort. "Y'could see the bottom right there!"

"I told you—clear water looks shallower than it is," I reminded him. "I'm going to help Chang retrieve the rest of our stuff. You get dried off, Maxwell. And then we'll do some hiking to take the chill away."

Chill, indeed. While Chang and I brought the equipment and supplies across, Maxwell unselfconsciously stripped down to his very brief black underwear and toweled himself off.

I nearly dropped my teeth when I saw what he was doing, and then I missed a step and nearly plunged back into the same pool we'd dragged him out of. Not that I'd have felt the cold, for the heat rushing to parts of my body I wanted very much to ignore.

Chang was more vocal. "What the fuck are you doing, Maxwell? Have you no shame?"

Maxwell looked at him questioningly, and then looked down at the abs he was running the towel across. When he looked up he was grinning. "Shit, Chang. I used to strip—remember? And I wore a lot skimpier stuff than this!" he snapped the waistband of those snug underwear, and I swallowed hard.

He caught that little motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned a wicked smirk my way. "Like what you see?" he teased.

I didn't trust myself to answer, but dropped my gaze to the ground just in front of my feet as I hauled the duffel containing his clothes over and tossed it his way. "Your stuff's in there," I said brusquely. "Hurry up and put something dry on."

"Wanna help?" he suggested.

I felt my hands twitch at the thought of feeling that flesh under them again, and turned sharply away. "Help yourself," I growled.

"Stop fucking around, Maxwell!" Chang ordered. "Get dressed and put your boots on. We've got a long way to go yet."

"My boots are all wet," said the braided man plaintively.

"Fucking deal with it," Wufei retorted.

"Deal with _this_," Maxwell suggested, flinging his soggy tee shirt to smack into the back of Chang's head.

My partner whipped around with fire in the dark eyes, and probably would have shot Maxwell on the spot, had our witness not taken the opportunity to remove his wet underwear just then.

Instead of ranting, Chang made a choked, gurgling sound, spun around, and hurriedly went back across the stream to bring over some more of our stuff.

I just stood staring in numb fascination, as Maxwell dug dry clothing out of his pack and slipped on a new pair of briefs.

"Aren't you boys gonna put dry clothes on?" he asked, looking squarely back at me with the slightest of smirks as he slid into a pair of tight, faded jeans.

"Uh, yeah—of course," I managed, trying to get my mind out of those jeans.

Wufei came back across with more luggage, and grabbed his own duffel bag off the pile. "I'll be back in a moment, Yuy. Then you can go change," he announced, striding off into the trees to change in private.

"Aw, hey!" Maxwell protested. "C'mon Wuffers! We're all guys here. You can change in front of Yuy and me."

"You are _not _getting a free show!" my partner shot back as he disappeared.

I looked accusingly at Maxwell. "He's straight, you know."

"So he says."

I scowled. "No—he _is_. Just listen to him. He despises gays. You're wasting your time trying to—." Come to think of it, I wasn't sure just what Maxwell _was_ trying to accomplish by baiting Chang. "—seduce him," I concluded finally.

"I'm not trying to get in his pants, Yuy. He's just fun to tease." The indigo eyes slid down to my groin. "You know who I really want. And if you weren't such a pansy about admitting your preferences—."

"I'm a fucking cop, Maxwell! Do you have any idea the prejudice in the department?" I glared heatedly at him. "Stop playing games and just let me do my job." I turned away from him, digging dry clothes out of my duffel bag.

"I'm still just a job to you?" came a surprisingly tentative question.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Why not? I was just a convenient fuck for you."

"That's not true—." He stopped short, and I followed his gaze to where Chang was walking back out of the trees.

"Sure it is," I told him, wanting to end the dangerous topic before Wufei was within hearing range. "Now shut the fuck up about it." I grabbed my armful of clothes and headed for the trees my partner had just emerged from.

Why did I have a feeling if I looked back I'd see a hurt expression in the indigo eyes?

Yes, I know I was being a complete ass to Maxwell—but realistically speaking, it was unlikely our sexual encounter had meant anything to him—and when he tried to suggest that it did, I couldn't help but be angry.

What was his angle, anyway? All I could think was that he was trying to get some sort of admission out of me, and then use it as leverage. _That _I could understand, whereas I found it inconceivable that he was harboring any genuine feelings for me…unless you counted lust.

When I got back from changing, both of my companions were ready to travel again. I avoided eye contact with Maxwell, while we redistributed the packs, making sure each of us was carrying approximately the same load. And then Wufei checked our position with map and compass, and we once again struck out for our destination.

Chang led the way, and Maxwell was right on his heels, loaded with gear and walking along in dogged silence.

I might have said _blessed_ silence, except that for once it didn't relieve me to have him quiet. I wanted him to whine and chatter and be the Duo Maxwell we'd started this trip with. I saw brief glimpses of that man—but not the full-on outrageousness I'd begun to count on.

* * *

By early afternoon the temperature had climbed into the eighties, an unusually warm day so early in the season, and all three of us were sweating under our burdens. The trail climbed steadily, and our breaks came more frequently as we progressed through the dense forest.

During one of our five-minute breaks, as we sprawled wearily in a clearing sipping bottled water, Maxwell perked up enough to ask "What's that smell?"

I sucked in a lungful of clear mountain air, heavy with the spicy perfume of pine trees, moss, and leaf litter. "What smell?" I asked for clarification.

He waved a hand into the air. "Just—that smell—," he insisted.

"What does it smell like?" Chang asked, taking a sip of water as he leaned back against a duffel bag.

"Like those things you hang in the car that smell so good," Maxwell said with a faint frown.

"Pine?" I hazarded.

"Yeah—the little pine tree things—." Maxwell's eyes went wide and drifted to the tall trees around us. "Oh." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "They really smell like that—only—fresher."

"You need to get out more," Chang said with a shake of his head.

I thought he almost sounded amused by Maxwell's complete naiveté when it came to the great outdoors. It occurred to me that if our witness were—how had Chang put it—_a good looking young woman with manners and charm_—my partner would have been quite enchanted by that innocence.

I know I was. And I felt more like a heel than ever for the snappish attitude I'd had all day. Here it was Maxwell's first time in the woods, and I was so fixated on trying to resist my attraction to him that I couldn't find a way to be civil.

I sighed, pulling my knees into my chest and resting my forehead on them. I'd have given a week's pay to have met Maxwell any way but the one I had. If I'd picked him up in a bar, or bumped into him on a sidewalk, things might have been very different between us.

But once again I was reminded that he was a criminal, and I was a cop—and there was just no future in a relationship for us. Hell, there wasn't even a relationship. Just sex.

The most incredible sex of my life.

"Fuck!" I blurted, pushing myself upright again and grabbing the map from Wufei. "I'll lead for awhile," I told him curtly, picking up my share of the gear and heading off down the trail without waiting for the others to catch up.

"What crawled up his ass and died?" I heard Maxwell grumble to my partner.

"Must it always come back to asses for you, Maxwell?" sighed Wufei.

I tuned them out and set as brisk a pace as I could manage with my sore leg. I did _not _want to spend another night in the open—especially with Maxwell sleeping only feet away from me. I wanted to be in a house, with security, heat and lights—with separate rooms and doors that could be locked.


	21. Hazardous Duty

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty One: Hazardous Duty

Chang caught up to me as the afternoon dragged on, falling into step with my steady, but painful strides.

"We need to eat, Yuy."

"We need to reach shelter."

"And we will. My best guess is that we're within ten or fifteen miles of our destination," he pointed out. "Resting and eating a quick lunch won't prevent us from arriving there by nightfall."

I slowed and stopped, allowing myself to lean against a tree and catch my breath as he passed me a water bottle.

"You're pushing very hard," he noted, his concerned gaze resting on my bandaged leg.

"With good reason."

"Aye, but Maxwell's starting to lag behind. And protecting him is the point of this little exercise."

"Since when did you give a shit?" I asked snidely.

"Since our visitors the other night convinced me of how much he needs our protection."

He gave a slight shrug. "I may not like him, or what he is and what he represents, but in all honesty, he did react well under pressure. I'm beginning to think he might actually hold his own on the witness stand—at least long enough to put Khushrenada away."

He sighed, scowling faintly. "If he'd just learn to behave, he might not be completely intolerable."

"Seriously?" I know I sounded shocked, but then I'd never have expected a mellowing of Chang's attitude towards Maxwell. And it sure sounded like he was mellowing.

At that point Maxwell limped up to where we were, and dropped the stuff he'd been carrying, sinking to the ground with a groan. "Could one of you just shoot me now and get this over with?" he begged.

I put my hand over Chang's as he reached for his gun. "The job, Chang! The job," I reminded him, managing a wry smile.

"Ah yes. I knew there was a reason," joked my partner. He turned a lofty glare on our witness. "We'll rest exactly half an hour, Maxwell. You can have a protein bar and some water."

Maxwell groaned, shaking his head. "Fuck that—I just want these boots off." He tugged at his still-damp laces, and worked the wet boots off his feet.

"You put the wet boots back on after the river?" I asked with a sigh, knowing he had to be sporting blisters by now.

"My other boots aren't exactly good for hiking," he said wearily, brushing damp bangs back from his sweaty forehead. "But then, apparently these aren't, either."

Wufei startled me once again by kneeling beside the braided man and examining one of his feet. "You've done a fine job of abusing your feet, Maxwell. You should have spoken up if you were in pain."

"Would either of you have listened to me?" came the sullen response.

"No," admitted my partner. "Probably not. But now—if you keep on with your feet in this condition, you'll be bleeding before we reach our destination." He straightened, his gaze traveling to my leg. "Yuy—break out meals for yourself and Maxwell. I'm going to find a stream, get some cold water, and see if I can track down some arnica or other herbs that Maxwell could soak his feet in for awhile."

"We don't have the time—," I began.

"It won't take me more than twenty or thirty minutes to find what I need," he assured me. "By the time I get back you will have eaten, and both of you can rest for a time, while I eat. Then we'll all be in better shape to press on to our destination before dark."

"I could get the water," I offered, not wanting to be left alone with Maxwell again.

"And are you familiar with herbs?" came the too-practical reply. "No, Yuy. Stay here and rest. Your leg needs the break as much as Maxwell's feet do." He shook his head. "Two cripples," he chided.

Maxwell had leaned his back against a duffel bag, and had his eyes closed…I almost thought he was falling asleep.

"Be careful, Wufei," I sighed. "And if you aren't back in exactly fifteen minutes, we're coming after you."

"Give me thirty, Yuy. I'll have to do some searching for the right herbs—but I promise when I get to fifteen minutes, I'll start back for this spot whether I've found them or not."

"Thirty then—and not a second more."

With a brief nod, he grabbed a protein bar and a canteen, and headed off into the woods.

I looked dubiously at Maxwell as I broke out more food and some foil juice packets. He hadn't moved since he'd taken off his boots and nestled up against the duffel bag. And when I nudged him with a foot to get his attention, he didn't even open his eyes.

"Maxwell?"

My only answer was a quiet snore, and I realized that considering the time of day and our level of sleep-deprivation, he'd simply crashed and fallen deeply asleep.

It was okay by me; if he slept until Chang got back, he could eat with my partner while his feet were soaking. That meant I didn't have to worry about him picking up the thread of our earlier conversation, which was a huge relief. I set his food down on a flat rock near him and settled in to eat mine.

When I'd finished my impromptu meal, reflecting that when we got to the next safe house I was damn well going to make real food for a change, I glanced at my watch and noticed it had been twenty minutes since Wufei left. And once I noticed the time, I settled in and ended up pretty much staring at the watch as each minute ticked past. When it got to thirty, I looked up and around, even calling out a tentative "Chang?" But there was no answer.

_Shit._

I got up slowly, wincing at the ache in my wounded leg, and hobbled over to Maxwell. "Wake up!" I ordered firmly, staying out of range of his switchblade just in case.

He moaned, slapping at my foot without opening his eyes. "G'way. Wanna sleep."

"You have to get up, Maxwell. We're in the middle of the wilderness and Chang's overdue to come back."

He blinked sleepily up at me, pushing himself upright, and looking around in confusion. "What do you mean? Back from where?"

"He went off to find some herbs for you to soak your feet in," I explained. "He said thirty minutes, and it's going on thirty-five."

"Fuck." He picked his socks up off the rock he'd draped them on, and gingerly began to pull them back onto his raw-looking feet. "You really mean it? Wuffers went to get something for my feet?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't even like me."

"Maybe not," I said noncommittally. "But keeping you functional is part of his job, and he takes it very seriously."

"That's right. I'm not a person—I'm a job," muttered Maxwell. "For both of you."

"We don't have time for this," I said curtly, not wanting to get into it with him. "We need to track my partner down and get back on our way."

"Where d'you think he is?"

"Could've fallen, taken a bad step and twisted an ankle, gotten lost…" Frankly I couldn't picture Chang doing any of those things—but I didn't know what else to say.

Maxwell had pulled his boots back on and laced them while I bundled up our stuff, taking out a coil of rope and a rifle to bring on our search.

"You don't want me to stay here and guard our stuff?" Maxwell asked, picking up the food I'd left out for him and wrinkling his nose as he nibbled at the edge of the protein bar.

"I won't leave you alone. You know better."

"I won't run again. I promise."

"It's not about that," I assured him, finally looking him squarely in the eyes. "It's about your safety—and out here, there's safety in numbers." Case in point—Chang had gone off alone, and now was missing. "Let's get moving."

He stuffed his half-eaten snack in his shirt pocket and we set off on Wufei's trail. My partner hadn't been trying to hide his tracks, so they were easy to follow in the loamy soil. They led down a game trail to a trickle of a stream, where there were clear signs he'd knelt to fill the canteen. Then, a few minutes later, we came upon a wider stream and Chang's tracks, mingled with those of an animal…a very large animal…with claws.

Maxwell stared fixedly at the tracks, and then an anxious pair of indigo eyes sought mine. "Are those other tracks what I think they are?"

I nodded.

"Bears?"

"Yes," I bit out sharply.

"Fucking hell." Maxwell edged closer to me, looking around at the trees and underbrush. "I thought you guys were just screwing with my head before. You didn't hear anything? Shots maybe? Blood-curdling shrieks?"

"Chang wouldn't have fired a gun and risked alerting pursuers unless there was no other option," I shrugged, ignoring the rest of Maxwell's questions. "He's got to be somewhere around. Maybe cornered—trapped."

"Eaten," Maxwell supplied helpfully. "And I don't mean in a good way—."

"Jesus, Maxwell! This isn't the time for jokes!" I snarled, my fear for my partner lending anger to my tone.

"Look, Yuy, that's how I deal with stress, okay? I try to laugh it off," Maxwell said earnestly. "If I don't make jokes, I might start to think of all the awful shit that could've happened to Wufei—and I don't _want _to."

Had he actually said Chang's name right? And of course my partner wasn't there to hear it. "Just—stay close to me Maxwell. And if we spot a bear, get yourself behind me."

"I was thinking more along the lines of running," he said rather faintly. "I don't care how much my feet hurt—I'm not ending up as bear chow."

We followed the tracks across the trickle of stream, and onto a sandy beach, where there were more animal tracks—smaller than the others. I wanted to slap a palm onto my face. Chang must have disturbed a mother and cubs.

"Chang?" I called out, hoping to at least let my partner know help was on the way.

From somewhere in the forest, I heard an answering call. "Over here!"

Maxwell and I headed towards the sound of the voice, and I held the rifle at the ready, scanning the underbrush for signs of movement, or the dark fur of a bear.

We emerged into a small clearing, and saw two very little cubs engrossed in trying to stick their noses into a hollow log to get something inside. For a moment I had the wild notion Chang had taken refuge there, but a short whistle drew my gaze up into the nearby trees.

"Wufei?"

He was clinging to the tree about twenty feet off the ground, his hair a mess, and his eyes a little wild. "Careful Yuy! The mother's close by!"

Sure enough at the sound of his voice, there came a quiet huff and a huge black bear came stalking out of the woods and went straight to the base of the tree.

"Shit," Maxwell hissed in my ear, and I realized distractedly that he was pressed up against my back, one hand clinging to a belt loop as if to a security blanket.

"Shh," I cautioned, not wanting to draw the bear's attention.

Fortunately, she seemed singularly fixated on Wufei, and stood up to place her front paws on the tree trunk, as if thinking of climbing after him.

"Yuy—!" my partner growled in a slightly panicky voice.

I moved very slowly to raise the rifle, knowing I'd only get one shot. If I missed, the animal would probably turn on Maxwell and me.

"If I miss," I whispered to him, turning my face so that we were almost nose to nose. "Run like hell."

"Wait!" he whispered back. "What're you gonna do?"

"What does it look like?"

"You can't!" he said more urgently. "The babies—."

Jesus Christ! What was it with Maxwell and kids?

"It's her or Chang," I retorted, keeping an eye on the bear, who was now starting to pull herself up to climb.

I raised the rifle, and suddenly Maxwell moved around me into the line of fire. "No!" he said sharply. "There's got to be a way to scare them off!"

"Maxwell!" Chang yelled angrily, seeing our witness stepping into a dangerous situation. "Get the fuck out of his way!"

"No!" Maxwell backed a few steps so he was even more at risk, and I glared furiously at him. "C'mon, Yuy. You're cops. Figure something else out!"

"No time," I insisted.

"Watch her!" Chang called, as the mother bear dropped back to the ground and looked over at Maxwell and me.

"What the fuck do you expect to do?" I demanded of the braided man.

"I don't know…but I was an orphan, Yuy. I'm not gonna let you do that to those little guys." He turned towards the cubs, who had pulled away from their log and were looking curiously at him. "Hey there," he said brightly.

"If you get between them and the mother, she _will _attack you," I told him. "For fuck's sake, Maxwell, get out of the way!"

The two cubs had other ideas, and began to amble towards Maxwell, who looked both fascinated and alarmed.

"Jesus Christ!" I heard Chang blurt in horror. "Is that a protein bar in your pocket? Maxwell, that's what got _me _into trouble! Get rid of it!"

Oh, it all made sense now. The cubs must have smelled the chocolate on the bar, and headed for Wufei, only to land him in a heap of trouble as the mother took note of her babies' danger.

"Ditch it, Maxwell!" I ordered.

He pulled the bar out of his pocket, holding it out to the cubs. "Hey, little guys, you hungry?" All the while he was backing out of the clearing, away from both me and Chang—and the two furry demons happily pursued.

The mother took notice as well, letting out a low, distressed call and starting to follow her babies.

"Time to move, Chang!" I said urgently, keeping the gun trained on the bear. I didn't dare shoot, for fear of wounding her while she was facing Maxwell. The last thing he needed was an enraged bear charging at him.

Wufei was already clambering down the tree, his gaze riveted on the bear. I was sure he'd planned an escape route in the time he'd been treed, and so I kept my attention on Maxwell.

The cubs were now within a few feet of the braided man, who still held the snack bar out as some sort of lure, and who had finally reached the edge of the clearing. He made sure both babies were fixated on the sweet food, and then tossed it away from himself, and Chang and me.

The cubs started after it, and the mother started after them, and then Maxwell ducked behind the cover of some trees and sprinted back towards Chang and me.

We wasted no time; all three of us took to our heels, heading towards our rest area at a dead run.

"Maxwell, I don't believe you pulled a fucking stupid stunt like that!" I snarled as we ran.

He drew even with me, apparently able to ignore the pain in his feet while he had so much adrenaline pumping through his system. "Sorry, Yuy," he panted back. "Couldn't let you make orphans out of those two babies."

"Fucking idealistic asshole!" I retorted, feeling a strange mixture of irritation and respect. As much as I disagreed with his reckless tactics, they'd gotten us out of the situation without firing a shot.

"And proud of it," he replied.

We got back to the gear in record time, and began hastily loading ourselves up, wanting to get as far from the mother bear's territory as possible.

Wufei took a moment to gather his wits, leaning against a tree as Maxwell and I raked branches over our camp site to erase tracks.

"Thank you for coming after me so promptly," he said in a very serious voice.

I glanced up and shook my head. "I knew you wouldn't be late on purpose."

I heard a chuckle from our witness as he slipped his backpack on and started picking up gear. "Man, I just wish we could've seen you climb that tree, Wuffers. You must've set some kind of record."

My partner blushed and scowled. "So would you, if there was a perturbed mother bear on your heels."

"Yeah, I sure would," admitted Maxwell. He gave Wufei a puckish grin. "Won't be teasing me about bears any more, now will ya?"

"Fuck you," Chang muttered, grabbing a duffel bag and backpack and heading off down the trail.

Maxwell looked over at me with a perfectly devilish smirk. "And you said he was straight," he teased. "But he wants to fuck me."

"Figure of speech!" Chang called over his shoulder. "Seriously, Maxwell! You need to face reality."

I shook my head, thinking that Wufei was taking the whole incident pretty well, all things considered. I'd have expected him to be more embarrassed, or defensive. But his close call had shaken us all just enough that we hadn't belabored the issue. And he seemed quite content to let it go.

* * *

We didn't stop again. By unspoken mutual consent, we kept a steady pace, none of us eager to sleep out where we now knew for sure there were bears living. And by late afternoon, we were climbing a killer of a slope, but one which appeared to be the last before our destination.

I had the map out, and estimated that the path we were on would bring us to a ridge just above the house and the lake. From there, we could follow the cliff until it led to a logging road, which was the only way in or out of the secluded valley. It was even more remote than the last place, and for that reason, I hoped it would prove more secure.

When we crested the ridge, sure enough, there was a gorgeous lake nestled between wooded hills. And on the slope above and overlooking the lake was a chalet-style home, with vaulted ceilings, a wrap-around porch, and tall windows.

I winced at the thought of all that glass—but I hoped the remoteness would offset the lack of fortification. I rather wistfully thought of the log cabin, knowing that had it been any less solid, we'd have been swiss cheese right along with the SUV.

Maxwell staggered up beside me, drawing a sleeve across his sweaty brow and taking a deep breath of the cool breeze that wafted up from the lake.

"Home sweet home, Maxwell." I gestured to the scenic view.

"Wow."

"That's it?" Chang asked, joining us at the edge of the ridge. "All you can say is 'wow'?"

Maxwell shrugged. "Too busy trying to catch my breath to say how quaint it is, and ask if there's a jacuzzi."

"Yes, there is," I said, carefully restraining a smirk. When we'd made our plans the night before leaving, Quatre had gone on at some length about the hot tub out on the deck. I'd scoffed at the time, but now I had a feeling after our strenuous trek, we might need a long soak.

Of course, thinking about that brought a rush of panic as I imagined Maxwell lounging in it, steam rising around him and droplets of moisture trickling down his chest. Fuck it anyway! You'd think hiking thirty miles through rough country would wear me out enough that I didn't get an immediate erection at the thought of Maxwell in a hot tub. It didn't.

"Seriously?" he asked me, turning a hopeful look my way. "There really _is _one?"

"Yes," I admitted. "But don't get any ideas. We can't have you out in the open like that." It was a complete line of bullshit—but I delivered it with a straight face—and he almost fell for it. But he must have seen the glimmer of amusement in my eyes.

"Oh, fuck that!" he growled. "Open, schmopen. I've got dibs on the hot tub."

"Do you honestly want to die in a—?" Chang stopped in mid-sentence at the wide grin on Duo's face. "Never mind."

"The only thing better than lounging in a hot tub for my last moments on Earth would be having hot, wild sex in a hot tub for my last moments on Earth," Maxwell asserted, giving both of us a lascivious look "Any takers?"

_Oh God, yes…_

I fixed him with a deadly glare, though I was secretly glad he'd shaken off his somber mood from the previous night. "If you want to get your rocks off in the hot tub, Maxwell, you are definitely going last," I snarled, grabbing my backpack and gear and heading down the hill.

"—and alone!" Wufei added firmly, close on my heels.

"Spoilsports," muttered our oversexed witness, stomping along behind us.

It took us another half hour to trudge down the rugged path and make our way up the logging road to the house, but finally, just as the sun was setting over the hills surrounding the lake, we reached our safe haven.

I went up the walkway and deactivated the alarm system with the codes Winner had provided me before our departure, and I held the door as Chang and Maxwell struggled to haul our belongings inside.

Then I re-activated the security system, breathing a sigh of relief. Not exactly "safe at last," but we were far better off than we'd been out in the forest.

"Oh God, a couch," Maxwell sighed, dropping his backpack and the two bags he'd been lugging, and stumbling over to drop face down on the chintz fabric.

"Don't get comfortable, Maxwell. You're going to help us get set up—even if you just unpack supplies."

Maxwell raised his head, glaring. "You gonna be screwing windows shut?"

Oh—wrong thing to say! Chang turned like a startled snake, coiling in anger. "If I have to resort to that to keep you in, I'll just handcuff you to a solid object and have done with it!"

Maxwell gave a sly smirk at that. "So you _are_ into handcuffs, eh? How d'you feel about leather?"

But Wufei ignored the baiting and remained focused on his topic. "The only relevant topic is whether you're prepared to cooperate with Yuy and me. If you aren't…"

"I already promised your fuckin' partner I won't run off again!" Maxwell shot back coolly. "Do you honestly think I want to run into your pal Yogi Bear again?"

Wufei flushed at that, still a bit embarrassed by the treeing incident. "I just want to know I don't have to waste time keeping you in, and that I can focus on keeping the ones who want you dead _out_."

"Yes, you can," came the scowling response. "I like breathing, Chang. And I know how serious Khushrenada is now. I won't do anything reckless again—not like last time."

I frowned. Now that I had a bit of time to think about it, I was back to wondering how they'd found the previous safe house in the first place. "Chang—we need to consider the possibility of a leak in the department," I told my partner. "I know for a fact that I wasn't followed when I brought Maxwell back from the bar. And I don't even need to ask you to know you weren't either. So that means they located us some other way—and that worries me."

"It must be time to check in with the Captain," Chang acknowledged. "You should pass along our concerns on the subject."

"Mine too," Maxwell chimed in, burying his face in the throw pillows on the couch. "Fuckin' cops—all on the take, y'know."

Wufei glared hotly. "If we were _all_ on the take, you'd be dead by now."

"Okay—so I got the only two honest cops in the world watchin' my back," admitted our witness. "You're in a minority, boys. Face it."

"What is it with you and cops?" I growled.

He rolled onto his back, looking squarely at me. "Ya wanna know? Really?" He sat up, his legs dangling over the arm of the couch, and his elbows resting on his knees. "The day before the Reapers got wasted, I was picked up for B and E in a grocery store. I was getting some food for a bunch of street kids who were half-starved. But the cops who arrested me tried to get me to trade a quick fuck for bail money…said they'd even cut me loose for a blowjob. I told them to fuck themselves, and they threw me in lockup. Wouldn't get me a lawyer…wouldn't give me a phone call."

"Legally, they have to—," I began.

"Well they didn't!" he snapped bitterly. "I'd heard there was something going down the next day—that someone had planned a serious move on my gang—and I needed to warn them—to get word to them. But your pals in blue wouldn't even let me have my goddamned phone call." He lowered his gaze to the floor, his face taut with anger. "I even agreed to their stupid offer—but they said it was too late. Since we were already back at the precinct, instead of in the squad car, they couldn't get away with fucking me. By the time morning rolled around and the day crew came on, I got my phone call and passed the word to a friend to warn the gang—but it was already too late. Before he got there, the place was on fire." He looked up with a scowl. "I didn't even get released until after noon—by then there wasn't a chance in Hell."

I'd known the cops Maxwell was talking about—and I was stunned at the revelation that they'd tried to coerce sex out of a suspect. Burns and Jones had always seemed like decent, conscientious cops. I just couldn't picture them demanding sex from an under age suspect, let alone offering to let him go if he complied.

"Maybe you misunderstood," I hazarded.

The indigo eyes shot me a perfectly scathing look. "Give me just a little credit here, Yuy. They caught me dead to rights in the grocery store, slapped the cuffs on, and then before they put me in the squad car said if I let them each 'have a turn' fucking me, I could walk. What was there to misunderstand?"

"I—I don't know," I admitted. It sounded pretty bad for the two cops, and I decided I'd be checking into the matter if and when we ever got out of the situation we were in.

"Two bad cops shouldn't represent the entire profession," Wufei said loftily.

Maxwell just gave a wry snort. "Y'know how many times I was arrested, Chang? And how many cops made the same offer?" He shook his head. "None of it matters—except that those two low-life assholes cost me every friend I had in the world that day." The wide, too-pretty eyes narrowed menacingly. "And none of you fuckers ever investigated it at all."

"We did," I assured him. "But no one would talk to us. No one would even help us identify the bodies. If even one of you had come forward and cooperated, we might've been able to make some progress in the case."

"You want progress? I can tell you exactly who killed the Reapers. It was the Rebels—another gang who wanted in on our territory."

"And you know this how?" asked Chang.

"Everyone knew it. Just—no one actually saw it—not and lived to tell."

"We can't arrest people just because popular opinion says they're guilty," I pointed out. "We need evidence."

"Yeah—doesn't that just cover your asses nicely?" he muttered, flopping back onto the couch. "And yeah, Chang, I'm back on the subject of asses again."

I shook my head, meeting my partner's gaze. "Let's get settled in here, Wufei. We can dig up old dirt another time." I headed for the kitchen, deciding to take a quick inventory of our supplies. Back in the living room, I heard Chang growling at Maxwell to get his _ass _up off the couch and help him carry our stuff upstairs. I couldn't help smiling ruefully. On the one hand, my partner was loosening up a bit—and on the other, he was starting to sound like Maxwell. What a mixed blessing that was.

I quickly discovered there was plenty of food in the pantry. Quatre had mentioned his sister's place was used extensively in the summer months, and that it was so remote they kept a lot of canned goods in storage. He hadn't exaggerated.

Leaving the cozy little kitchen, I grabbed the last of the luggage from the doorway and headed up the stairs to join the others.

Maxwell had selected a room to call his own, and was sprawled on the mattress busily taking off his boots, and chattering away about how he'd never again treat his feet so poorly.

Wufei was leaning in the doorway, his dark gaze studying the layout of the room, and the position of the single window. He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Looks like a safe enough setup," he told me. "One window, second floor…and it faces the lake. If you stuck a motion sensor just outside it, no one would be able to get in undetected."

"Or out?" suggested Maxwell.

"You promised not to," I reminded him.

"I won't. Not with bears and hit men out there somewhere," he said with a shiver.

Finally, he'd learned his lesson, and it was about time.

"We won't need the sensors on the window," I told Chang. "The security setup on the house itself will sound an alarm if a window is opened while it's activated. Besides, without the laptop, I couldn't monitor motion sensors. All I could do is set them to emit a high-frequency beep. It wouldn't provide any advance warning."

"Well then the house security will have to suffice," shrugged my partner.

"For now. Maybe I can arrange to pick up a laptop on our next supply run." I looked out the window at the darkening landscape. "I think I'll take a walk around the exterior of the house," I told my partner. "Just to look for weaknesses. Can you take care of checking all the windows to be sure they're locked and the shades are drawn?"

"Consider it done."

"I'll just lie here and rest then," Maxwell said cockily.

"You'll go down into the cellar and check the freezer for provisions," I told him firmly. "Winner said there's a year's supply of vacuum-packed meats and frozen entrees down there. Try to find something edible."

He sat up with a pout. "But my feet hurt."

"I got some herbs before my encounter with Mother Nature," Wufei told him with a hint of smugness. "If you take care of the food inventory, I'll brew them into a soak for your feet as soon as I'm done with the windows."

Maxwell brightened perceptibly. "Maybe you could throw 'em into the hot tub—along with me."

"Not tonight!" I said firmly. "We need to know our surroundings better before you venture outside." I gave him a steady look, not trying to hide my very real concern. "Right now you're safe, protected, and secure. Let us keep you that way?"

He blinked at me, and then looked down at the floor, a reluctant smile touching his lips. "Yeah—okay. But once you have your perimeter all squared away, I'm _so _having a turn in the jacuzzi."

"Agreed." I turned and headed back downstairs, feeling like I'd made a little progress towards gaining Maxwell's cooperation.

Knowing why he disliked cops so much, it was a bit easier to understand his reluctance to help us on the Merquise case. But we were all in it deep enough by then, that we had to achieve some sort of working relationship. And I honestly thought we could; especially if I could keep that physical relationship in the past and stay focused on my job.

That task was easier said than done. But I didn't want to be like the cops who'd propositioned him three years earlier; I never wanted to be like them. And I hoped my lapse in judgment didn't give Duo the impression I was.

* * *

The lake was gorgeous. It stretched out in three directions, placing a wide water barrier between us and potential threats, and I was grateful for it. If anyone wanted to approach across it, we'd be able to see them long before they got near us. And the mountains and cliffs behind the house provided protection on that side. In many ways it was better than the log cabin. It was much less approachable…more remote. Its only shortcoming was that the first floor side facing the water had expansive glass windows and doors onto a deck. If I'd had my laptop and software, I could have literally covered that weakness in surveillance. Instead, we'd just have to be vigilant.

As I made my way down to the water, watching the deep purples and blues of the sky fading into the black of night, I heard a loon call from somewhere across the lake, and a smile found its way to my face. If Maxwell was fascinated by mountain sunrises and the scent of pine trees, I could only imagine what he'd make of twilight on the lake. I sort of wished I'd brought him out with me—but it wasn't worth the risk yet. Maybe the next night I could share the excitement of hearing the loon's eerie cry; I could almost picture the rapt expression that would be on Maxwell's face, and it was more enticing than the serene landscape by far.

I felt an immediate rush of frustration that once again I couldn't keep him from intruding on my thoughts. And as usual, that made me think about what happened on the floor of the cabin, and how much I'd fucked up my objectivity and my job. For someone who prided himself on his professionalism, that was a hard pill to swallow—and I tried to concentrate on studying my surroundings to keep those wayward thoughts and their accompanying guilt at bay.

I don't know how long I spent on my perimeter check. It was so peaceful out there that I probably lingered longer than I should, and only a grumble from my neglected stomach finally yanked me from my musings. I decided when I got inside, I'd try to scrape together a supper for us and let Chang and Maxwell rest a bit.

But when I let myself in and locked up behind me, I immediately smelled the mouthwatering odor of food cooking.

_God Bless Chang…he cooked._

It even smelled like real food. Not that I was any expert, after all the time we'd been living on ration bars and fast food.

"Smells great, Chang!" I called as I hit the code to reactivate the alarms. I walked into the kitchen and stopped in my tracks, seeing Maxwell at the stove stirring something in a big pot. "Oh."

He gave me a smirk over his shoulder. "Told you I wasn't without skills, Yuy."

"You cook?"

"Zechs taught me." He pulled the spoon from the bubbling mixture and held it out. "C'mon—taste."

I shook my head. "I can wait until it's done." And maybe until Chang tasted it first so I could be sure it was safe. My stomach growled loudly in protest.

"Humor me. Taste it," Maxwell urged, walking towards me, blowing lightly on the contents of the spoon to cool it.

I glanced down to avoid watching those too-tempting lips, and blinked in surprise. "Is that an _apron_?"

It was…and it was flowered…with a ruffled edge. I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling as I looked back up at Maxwell.

His face colored slightly, and he glared up at me from under his bangs. "Look, I didn't want to get spaghetti sauce on my jeans, okay? I found the apron in the closet." At that point he looked so defiant—like a kid trying to face down a bully—that I laughed aloud, and promptly had a spoonful of hot spaghetti sauce shoved into my mouth.

I gulped, sputtered a bit, and hastily swallowed some surprisingly delicious sauce.

Maxwell watched my face as if trying to read the expressions flitting across it. "Good?" he asked finally, brandishing the spoon almost threateningly.

"Very good," I admitted, licking a stray drop from the corner of my mouth.

The braided man followed the gesture, drew a quick hissing breath, and turned sharply away. He cleared his throat, sounding rather uncomfortable. "Dinner will be ready in about five minutes."

I had a sudden wayward urge to walk up behind him and slip my arms around his waist—to bury my face in the loose wisps of hair that had escaped his braid. It just felt very—domestic, for a moment—the two of us there in that kitchen. Duo was barefoot, wearing a loose tee shirt over his snug jeans, and looking more delicious than the concoction he was stirring, and I had a flash of a daydream in which we lived in a lakeside cottage and I came home to wonderful meals and incredible sex every night.

Fuck! I needed to get a grip on myself—and fast.

But first, I wanted to give Maxwell a taste of his own medicine. So I walked up beside him, pushing his personal space boundary the way he liked to push mine. And I reached past him to dip a finger into the sauce, intending to lick it off right there in front of him.

But before I could, he caught my wrist and pulled my finger into his mouth, sucking the sauce off it.

_Oh. My. God._

I almost came right then and there. _Fuck! _His tongue curled around my finger as he drew it deeper into his hot, moist mouth. And my knees nearly turned to water.

"Yuy? Was that your voice?" came Chang's call, sounding like he was about to turn the corner into the kitchen.

I jerked away in a panic, stumbling backwards to put some distance between myself and Maxwell.

"Uh—yeah," I rasped hoarsely, wiping my hand on the leg of my pants, unable to take my eyes off Maxwell's smug, teasing smirk.

He licked his lips, smiling sensuously, and winked one sparkling indigo eye. "Later," he whispered, turning back to the stove.

_Jesus fucking Christ! What was he doing to me? And why couldn't I resist?_

Wufei walked in, toweling off his hair. "How'd the perimeter look?" he asked me, peering over Maxwell's shoulder at the bubbling sauce.

"F-fine," I managed, hiding the shaking of my hands by stuffing them into my pockets. "Very defensible."

"Excellent."

He started to reach for the spoon, and Maxwell whacked his hand sharply. "Back off, Wuffers. It'll be just a few more minutes—and you _will _wait."

Giving a frustrated sigh, my partner glanced over at me. "You could take a quick shower, if you like. I had mine, and Maxwell's going after dinner."

While a cold shower might have eased the ache of a Maxwell-induced erection, I decided I'd be damned if I missed our first hot meal in days. "I'll take one after Maxwell. That way I won't pass out from hunger and drown in there."

Maxwell cast a sly glance over his shoulder. "Starving, eh? Well, why don't you boys set the table? And, sweetie, wash those dirty hands!"

How did he always manage to get the last word in?


	22. Wrong Numbers

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Yes, Wufei is going to backslide. But there is a reason. And we're close to finding it out, I promise.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Two: Wrong Numbers

It might have been the fact that we hadn't had real food in days, but the meal Maxwell made was nothing short of spectacular. It was simply spaghetti, sauce, and canned vegetables—but it tasted like ambrosia to two half-starved detectives. I don't know what he'd added, or how he found the right ingredients in the pantry, but he'd managed to put together something I'd have paid top dollar for in any restaurant.

To say I was impressed would be an understatement. And Wufei was even more flabbergasted than I was.

"Okay Maxwell—how the hell did you learn to cook like this?" my partner demanded over his second helping of food.

"Like I told your partner, Zechs taught me," Maxwell explained, twirling his fork in the spaghetti. "Before that I pretty much would've thought oregano was some exotic new drug on the street."

"And what else did you put in this?" Chang persisted.

"Some dried basil, thyme, rosemary…" Maxwell shrugged. "Quat's sister keeps a well-stocked spice rack."

Chang just shook his head, giving me a disbelieving look. "Who would have thought?"

I grunted a noncommittal response, since my mouth was full.

After the meal, Wufei insisted upon providing Maxwell with the foot soak he'd talked about, and I went off to take a shower.

It was almost as enjoyable standing beneath the spray of hot water as it had been eating a home cooked meal, and by the time I finished, I felt almost human again.

My leg, amazingly, didn't seem to be infected, though the wound was tender and the skin a bit irritated. But once I put ointment and a fresh bandage on, it felt a million times better.

When I got back downstairs, Maxwell was fidgeting, with his feet in a basin of water and leafy greens, while my partner finished up the dishes, having insisted that the chef was never supposed to have to participate in the cleanup.

"Ah, my turn in the shower!" Maxwell piped up happily, lifting his feet out of the soak, and drying them on a towel Chang had laid next to it. "Hey, Wuffers—thanks for making 'foot tea' for me. They _do _feel better."

"As I knew they would," came the complacent reply. "You'll find some aloe lotion in the medicine cabinet upstairs. I suggest you use it."

"Yes mother," quipped our witness, brushing past me and heading for the stairs. But he paused at the bottom step. "You smell good," he said with an appreciative sniff, giving me a sly glance.

I felt immediate heat on my face, but I wasn't about to let him get away with the last word this time. "So do you," I said with a grin of my own. "Like spaghetti sauce."

He looked down at his shirt, which sure enough had a small spatter of red on it, and then he looked back at me a bit sheepishly.

And before he could get off a snide comment, I let my gaze roam up and down his body. "Good enough to eat," I added, before turning to head for the kitchen.

I dared a glance back as I left the room, and saw him staring after me with his mouth open and a definite blush on his cheeks.

Yes! I finally flustered him back for all the times he'd flustered me. And I felt pretty good about that.

"Yuy—time to check in with Po?" asked Wufei, hanging up a dishtowel and turning away from the draining sink.

"We're already a bit late," I admitted. "She'll probably be frantic."

"Let her be," he suggested, giving me a conspiratorial smirk. "She put us on this godforsaken assignment knowing it'd be pure hell. She deserves to suffer, too."

I tried not to smile in return, but he had a point. We'd endured Maxwell's outrageous personality, horrible roadside food, and long, grueling hours in a cramped car. Then we'd been sleep-deprived, shot at, chased, and nearly eaten by bears. Maybe our Captain did deserve a little payback.

"Much as I want her to feel our pain," I said wearily, "I also want to get some sleep. And after we've checked in with her, I think we can afford to rest."

"I found a washer and dryer in the basement—I can throw some of our dirty clothes in while you make the call."

The sound of loud music pierced the quiet serenity of the house, and I groaned. "Where'd he find audio equipment?"

"Are you kidding? Every room has its own sound system," Wufei told me. "They must be music buffs or something. There's a collection of classical, opera, jazz, soft rock…" He cocked his head, grimacing slightly. "Then there's the shit Maxwell brought with him."

"Sonofa—." I shook my head, gathering up the cell phone and booster and heading for the deck on the back of the house. "I guess I'll have to go outside for a little peace and quiet."

Chang rolled his eyes. "I'll go yell at the little fool."

"No," I sighed. "Let him have it. He _did _make supper."

"And how!" My partner shook his head in bewilderment. "I just can't figure it out, Yuy. Why would Zechs take the time to teach Maxwell to cook? I mean, he was a goddamned drug lord—he could've hired the finest chef in the world. Why teach a street rat how to put together a gourmet meal?"

"Maybe he really _did _care?" I hazarded, hesitating to use the word "love." But it was pretty apparent there'd been more to Maxwell and Merquise than a self-indulgent crime boss dallying with a stripper just for the fun of it.

Wufei snorted skeptically. "Merquise? Next you'll be suggesting he wasn't such a bad guy—for a drug-dealing, money-laundering crook, that is."

"Never," I assured my partner, heading for the deck as the sound system upstairs started playing the same song I'd heard at The Jungle when Barton had been on stage. That was _all _I needed—the image of Maxwell and Barton performing together to the very sexual lyrics of that particular song.

_You let me violate you…you let me desecrate you…you let me penetrate you…_

I fled to the deck with the haunting words setting my face on fire—not to mention my groin—as I was reminded of what I'd done to Maxwell back at the log house. At this rate I'd end up needing a cold shower to follow the hot one I'd so recently enjoyed.

When I got outside, I focused on setting up the equipment on an umbrella table near the hot tub, letting the tedious task help clear my mind. As I finished, I found my gaze drawn to the moonlit lake and listened once again for the loon's call. But the only sound was the muffled, throbbing beat of the music coming from inside the cottage.

Out of habit, I glanced up at the windows, and frowned when I realized the shade on the bathroom had been raised. I'd have to talk to Maxwell about security again. He was so smart when it came to some subjects, and totally clueless on others.

Of course, even as I made a mental note to speak to him, I saw him pass by the window, shirtless (and of course probably naked, except that I couldn't see below the waist) and with his hair loose as he finger-combed it.

God, he was fucking gorgeous. Yeah, I'd said that before, and would no doubt say it again. And honestly, I'd never tried to deny the obvious. When he paused to look out across the lake, not noticing me in the shadows, I could have stared at him all night.

As compelling as he was, I had to tear my eyes away, and force myself to focus on the task at hand. And that wasn't an easy thing to do.

But before I could dial Captain Po's phone number, Wufei threw open the door and walked quickly out onto the deck, his face noticeably pale.

"What?" I asked quickly, looking around for a cause for his alarm.

He waved a shirt at me, his hand actually shaking a bit. "I took the wet clothes—to put them in the wash."

"And—?" What the hell was so unnerving about laundry for God's sake?

"Look!" he blurted, shoving the shirt into my hands.

I held it up, shaking the damp, wrinkled fabric slightly. "It's a shirt, Chang. What's the big deal?"

He reached out and stuck his finger through a hole in the fabric. "That's the big deal!"

I looked again, realizing the hole was in the left side, just under the sleeve. "Is that—a _bullet _hole?"

He nodded. "Two actually. There's a second right along the seam."

"Jesus, Chang!" I blurted in horror. "Do you know how close you came?"

"I'm well aware of it," he said a bit hoarsely.

"A couple of inches to the left and it would have been a killing shot."

"I _know_."

"And you just realized it now?"

"In all the excitement, I never noticed."

I looked at it again, swallowing against a sudden dryness in my throat. "The important thing is, they missed," I said, trying for a reassuring tone. "Barely," I added weakly.

He gave a wan smile, which faded almost before it began. "Tell Po I want a pay increase."

While I was glad Wufei could keep a sense of humor about this, I wasn't sure I could.

I ran a hand over my face, thinking of shootouts, car chases, cross-country hikes and bears. Was Khushrenada really worth all this?

Was Duo?

I looked towards the window again, trying not to picture Maxwell in the shower—trying not to picture him in the kitchen, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he sucked sauce off my finger.

No matter what he'd been or done, he didn't deserve what Khushrenada's people wanted to do to him. He was so full of life…

I shoved the shirt back into Chang's hands. "Don't show that to Maxwell. He doesn't need any more stress right now. He's just beginning to settle down."

"Agreed," said my partner, regaining some of his composure. "I just—it took me by surprise—and it shouldn't have. I know how good they were, and how close we came."

"Let's just hope that's the last we see of Khushrenada's hit men," I said firmly. "We've got a good position here. If we can just keep it from leaking…"

"Tell Po that," Chang said sharply. "Make sure she understands we don't want another incident."

"Oh, I will. Right after I request our pay raises."

Wufei leaned against the wall to listen in as I dialed the office.

The sound of Captain Po's voice answering her private number was a welcome sound indeed.

"Goddamnit, Yuy! You're late!"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir," I sighed. "We had some delays, but have reached a secure location."

"And about time. Is everyone okay?"

"More or less. Chang wants a pay increase—and frankly, after having my laptop shot up and finding two bullet holes in the last shirt he was wearing, so do I."

"What? Bullet—?" There was an exasperated sigh on the other end. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her tone a bit softer—less professional.

"As okay as we can be with people wanting to kill us," I said a bit curtly. "I'd like to get this over with, though. Do you have any news on the case?"

"Yes, but not that I can share over a cell phone frequency." There was a moment's pause. "You could probably learn as much from watching the news as I can tell you right now."

"I wish I had internet access. We could set up something more secure—encrypted."

"Perhaps you can procure another laptop somewhere."

"I'll try." I watched the moonlight reflecting off the smooth surface of the lake, grateful for the serenity. "Any word on how our previous location got compromised? I'd like very much to avoid a repeat performance."

Captain Po made a frustrated noise. "Yes and no. There was a call from the Sanc Palace to Khushrenada's office number that night."

"So?"

"It came directly after an incoming call from a town not far from your last location."

I felt my stomach lurch uneasily. "What town?"

"Northfield."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! So Maxwell's little outing did, indeed, get him spotted. I should kick his ass for that._

_Wait a sec…_

Another thought had occurred to me, and made my train of thought instantly derail. "They called _Sanc_? But—that makes no sense. Even if someone recognized him, they'd have called Khushrenada, not Sanc." And then it all fell into place. "Oh shit." An image flashed through my head of the phone booth in front of Hell's Bells.

Chang was giving me a quizzical look, trying to follow the one-sided conversation.

"What?" came Po's suspicious reply. "You know something."

"I'm afraid I do," I said, looking up at the bathroom window yet again. "I'll get back to you after I beat some information out of him."

"Now Yuy—don't do anything hasty."

"Hasty?" I asked, clenching my fist so hard on the phone it's a wonder it didn't break. "The little shit nearly got us killed!

"You think Ma—er, your companion—made the call?"

"The little fucker used to work there, remember?" I was trembling with anger by that time, livid over the fact that Maxwell had broken yet another life-saving rule. "Do you know who received the call?"

"No. The bartender said there were enough personal calls that night that he doesn't remember who got them or when they came in. Look, it's water under the bridge at this point—."

"It's blatant disregard for the safety protocols we'd put into place prior to the incident! Look, Captain, I have to go. I want to know who he called and what he told them. For all we know our present location could be at risk because of his big mouth."

"Do what you have to," sighed my Captain. "But whatever you do, don't impair his ability to talk when we need him." Her vaguely humorous farewell did nothing to ease my fury.

"Yuy out." I tossed the phone onto the patio table and stalked purposefully inside.

"Yuy?" Wufei hurried after me, catching my arm.

"Let go, Chang. I'm going upstairs to kill Maxwell," I snarled, yanking my arm free.

He matched me stride for stride as I headed for the stairs. "Did I hear you right, out there? Maxwell made a phone call? From where?"

"From outside the goddamned bar where he went clubbing!" I growled, storming up the stairs.

"He called the Sanc Palace?" At my curt nod, Wufei's face went bleak and the hand clenched in his bullet-riddled shirt tightened convulsively. "How _dare_ he?"

"After slipping out a window and stealing a motorcycle, do you really think he'd hesitate at using a pay phone?" I pounded loudly on the half-open door. "Maxwell! Get your ass out here!"

I heard a muffled exclamation, the music quieted, and then the door was pulled open. Maxwell stood there in jeans, his hair wrapped up in a towel and a perplexed look on his face. At the sight of the two of us, he gave one of his annoying little smirks. "Change your mind about joining me, boys?" he asked coyly.

I grabbed him by both shoulders, pulling him to within inches of my face. "Who did you call?" I demanded.

He blinked, and I squeezed a little harder and gave him a hard shake, knowing my hands would probably leave bruises. "_Who_, dammit?"

Sudden realization lit the indigo eyes, and a blush crept up his cheeks. Yeah, the little fucker knew all right. He knew exactly what he'd done and that I'd found out.

As quickly as it came his embarrassment passed, to be replaced by defiance. I could see the gleam of it in the indigo eyes. He opened his mouth as if for a smart remark, and at my piercing glare apparently thought better of it, closing his jaw and looking away. "A friend," he muttered almost under his breath.

I gave another hard shake, frustration boiling up inside me. "Who? Barton?"

He shook his head.

"Then who, goddamnit?!"

He glared back at me, eyes alight with anger, and brought both arms up inside mine, breaking my hold and backing away from me, glaring.

"Look—I had to talk to _someone_! You and your stick-up-his-ass partner were driving me fucking nuts with your lectures and rules and—and—_all _that shit! You wouldn't even give me the time of day an' I damn well needed someone to talk to—just _once_!"

I almost thought his eyes were bright with tears, but it had to be plain frustration. "Who?" I demanded again.

He swallowed hard. "No one who'd have told anyone about it—."

At that point Chang was moved to action, dropping the shirt he'd been holding, pulling his gun and leveling it point blank at Maxwell's face. "Goddamnit, Maxwell, do you have a death wish? Who did you call? I swear to God if you don't tell us I'll kill you myself!"

I almost made a grab for it, but being uncertain if the safety was on or off, I didn't want to jar his arm. "Chang!"

Maxwell took another step back, eyes wide. And then his face darkened and his fists clenched at his sides. "Go the fuck ahead if you want!" he challenged.

"You want to die?"

"I don't really care!" he snapped. "You wanna know if I have a death wish? Well maybe I _did_. Maybe watching them bury Zechs on national t.v. was enough to make me wish Khushrenada's fuckin' goons had found me in that goddamned penthouse! And maybe having to put up with your shit day after day was enough to make me not care what happened to me any more." He came forward and shoved me in the chest with both hands, pushing me back a step. "So go on, then! Whatever you want—you wanna hit me? Shoot me? Just fuckin' do it and get it over with!"

I thought for a split-second Chang might pull that trigger, and I hastily pushed upwards on the barrel of the gun. "Put it away!" I growled, sparing a momentary glare for him as well as Maxwell.

He obeyed me, never taking his livid gaze from Maxwell's face. "Who the _fuck _did you call, Maxwell?" he demanded again. "Whoever it was sold you out to Khushrenada and nearly got us all killed!"

Maxwell's jaw dropped. "But that's not possible! Hilde wouldn't do that to me—."

"Hilde?" I asked dangerously. "The stripper? You fuckin' called a stripper?"

"I called a _friend_!"

"Well your _friend _made a call to Khushrenada's private office number right after your dumbass call to Sanc," I told him, glaring hard enough to melt steel. "Did you tell her where we were?"

"No! Jesus, Yuy, I'm not _that _stupid! I never said where I was. We just talked—about Zechs—about the funeral. She couldn't have known where I was!"

"Oh really? It never occurred to you that she could look at the caller i.d.?"

"It was a pay phone," he said rather faintly, his defiance slipping into confused dismay.

Chang cut back in then, his tone scathing. "You called from a goddamned _land line_! Anyone can backtrack a phone nowadays—especially someone with Khushrenada's technology."

"I wasn't thinking of Khushrenada!" he insisted.

"Well obviously _she _was," I pointed out. "Someone must have offered her money to let them know if she heard from you. And you—fucking idiot that you are—_called _her."

"I didn't know!" he blurted miserably. "I _trusted _her. How could I know she'd—that she'd—?" He put a hand to his face, his voice hoarse. "I just wanted someone to talk to."

I shook my head, amazed at his stupidity, and seething with anger. "You risked everything just to whine about your dead boyfriend to a fuckin' stripper."

"A friend."

"A friend who sold you out for top dollar! Why call _her_? Why not Barton?"

"He was working. I _did_ try him first."

"So you kept going down the list when he was unavailable? Who would you have called next? Your bookie?"

"No. I told you. I trusted Hilde!" he blurted with horrified realization on his face. "I fuckin' trusted her—."

"You deserve to die, Maxwell," Chang said coldly. "You're a goddamned idiot."

"Don't you think I fuckin' know that now?" Maxwell snapped, his expression wavering between embarrassment, disillusionment, and anger. "Don't you think I know I screwed up? I made a mistake, all right? A goddamned mistake!"

"That's putting it a little mildly," I pointed out. "A mistake would have been if you didn't know the potential consequences of your actions. You knew exactly what we were trying to protect you from. They blew up Barton's goddamned car! You _knew_ how dangerous the situation was right from the start! You were selfish, thoughtless, reckless, and fucking suicidal, Maxwell! You almost got yourself killed."

"And what's worse," Chang interjected, "you almost got _us _killed along with you! I, for one, don't feel like dying for a piece of street trash who isn't smart enough to use the brains he was born with and simply cooperate with the men trying to keep him alive!"

"I _did _try!" Maxwell blurted. "I tried to put up with the lectures and the rules and being treated like a useless piece of shit! But after the funeral—I just couldn't _do _it! I needed _out_! Out from under the crap you kept shoveling!"

"And where did you think you'd go?" demanded my partner, his face livid. "What did you expect to find?"

"I expected to find someone who'd _listen_ to me for once!" Maxwell retorted.

And then it was like a dam broke, and the words came tumbling out. "I needed to talk to someone who didn't _hate _me! I _needed _someone to give a shit how much it hurt! And I didn't care how much of a risk I was taking!" His eyes were too bright, glistening with unshed tears. But he seemed oblivious to the show of emotion, continuing in an increasingly ragged voice. "I didn't even get to say goodbye to him!" He blinked and ran a hand across his eyes, muttering a curse. "So if you think I was tempting fate—yeah, I was! If you think I didn't give a damn if I got blown away, you're fucking right! I didn't. I'd have been perfectly happy joining Zechs right about then—okay? I needed to be someplace dark and smoky, where I could get lost in the music and the booze and the sex. Was it colossally stupid? Sure! Did I give a shit? No!" He had his hands clenched into fists, his face flushed with anger. "You got your message across loud and clear. So just back the fuck off!"

"No one's backing off!" Wufei said harshly. "And if you think we were insufferable before, just wait! We're going to do our jobs, with or without your cooperation!" He stepped closer, pointing an accusing finger at Maxwell; a finger no less threatening than the gun barrel. "You _will _obey us from now on, and you _will _adhere to the rules we set up, or we'll fucking throw your ass out on the street and let you dodge Khushrenada's killers all by yourself!"

"Chang—." My voice held a clear warning in it. My partner was stepping over the line—not that drawing a gun on our witness had been any less extreme—and saying things he knew we wouldn't do.

He turned a sharp look at me, scowling and shaking his head. "I'm not joking, Yuy. If he steps out of line one more time…"

"What—you'll shoot me and collect the bounty?" Maxwell sneered. "I thought I told you to go the fuck ahead!"

"Don't tempt me!"

"Stop being melodramatic," I snarled. "Both of you!"

"I wasn't," Maxwell retorted. "If your psycho chink bastard of a partner wants me dead, he can take his best fucking shot!"

"If you risk my life or Yuy's again, I will!" Chang snapped back. "You're a worthless piece of ass whose only use is as a pawn against a smarter, shrewder man than you'll ever be! At least Khushrenada is an opponent worthy of a little respect!"

"Respect? You respect murderers, Chang?"

"When the murdered party is a drug-dealing lowlife who shacks up with street trash like you—yes, I do!"

The indigo eyes widened, and then narrowed and filled with hate. "Don't talk about Zechs like that. You can say what you want about me, but leave him out of it!"

As usual, when my partner saw a weakness, he knew exactly where to strike for maximum effect. "Merquise deserved exactly what he got. I only wish I'd been able to watch his brains get blown all over that fine Persian rug! And frankly, of the two, I'd mourn the rug more!"

Maxwell flinched just slightly, and I saw his jaw tighten. But amazingly, he kept himself in check. "Bite me, Chang!" He turned on a heel and stalked down the hallway and into his room.

I turned a disbelieving look on my partner. "I want to know what your problem is, Chang. And I want to know now!"

"My problem is Maxwell's disregard for our rules and our lives."

"Bullshit. It's much more than that. It runs much deeper than that," I said firmly. "I was mad at him when we came up here—but you—. You were out of control."

"I didn't pull the trigger."

"Not the one on your gun," I growled back. "But you just shoved Merquise's death in Maxwell's face. That was cold, even for you!"

"Do you expect me to feel sympathy for the man who nearly got us killed?"

"I expect you to be professional about this! He fucked up; plain and simple."

He faltered at that; I think he saw my point.

"I've never seen you so—heartless," I said, backing off just a bit. "I _know _you, Chang. I've known you a long time. And I've always thought you were honorable—decent. Now are you going to tell me what it is that made you hate Maxwell from the start—what could make you take such cheap shots at someone who's obviously insecure?"

"Him? Insecure?" Chang snorted skeptically.

"Every time you remind him of Merquise—or of the fact that he came from the streets—he runs," I pointed out. "He did it at the rest stop, and he did it just now. What is it about him that irks you so much that you'd go out of your way to cause him pain?"

"I don't believe gutter trash knows how to feel pain," came the contemptuous reply. "You saw the tattoo—he's a gang member, Yuy—the lowest form of life out on the streets. He's caused countless deaths in his lifetime, just by helping the dealers move their product. And his other crimes—how much heartache do you suppose they caused?"

I blinked, fixating on my partner's choice of words. "_Heartache_?"

He shook his head, walking over and picking his shirt up off the floor. "Yuy—the man's a waste of space. I'll protect him because it's my job. I'll protect him because he's useful. But don't tell me I have to like him, or respect him, or give him the fucking time of day, because I won't." He turned sharply on his heel and started for the stairs.

"We're not done with this!" I began.

But he was already heading down the steps, leaving me standing in the hallway puzzling over the issue. What was it about Maxwell that Chang hated so much? And how had we gone from a peaceful dinner and a dawning spirit of teamwork right back into the angry, adversarial relationship we'd started with?

Oh. Right. The phone call.

Now that I'd had time to vent a little of my frustration, I was beginning to feel relieved that we knew how Khushrenada had tracked us down. It wasn't a police department leak, or a surveillance device we might have missed, or simple deduction—it was one foolish phone call.

And as stupid as he'd been to make that call, I could almost understand why Maxwell did it. He'd tried making overtures to Chang and me in the car and at the cottage. We'd firmly rebuffed any attempt at familiarity or camaraderie. It was no wonder he'd gone elsewhere for comfort when he needed it.

I couldn't help but recall the expression on his face as he'd walked away. He looked bleak to the point of hopelessness. It reminded me of the way he'd told Rhonda he was on a one-way trip.

Frowning in thought, I made my way to Maxwell's room, pausing outside the half-open door. There was no sound from inside—no breaking glass, or crashing furniture—and I wasn't sure whether that was a good sign or bad.

I stepped in to see Maxwell sitting on the bed doggedly brushing his damp mane of hair. He looked up with a glare that could have stripped flesh from bone. "What the _fuck _do you want?"

"I need to know," I said evenly—coolly. "Do you still feel like that?"

"Like what?"

"Suicidal."

He raised an eyebrow. "What's it to you?"

"I'm trying to keep you alive. Beyond the obvious dodging of hit men, I'd like to know how hard it's going to be."

He considered for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, Yuy, I'm not suicidal. I want to live. I guess part of me always did, or I'd have tried to stop Khushrenada and gotten myself blown away in that penthouse along with Zechs."

"So you won't do anything—rash?"

"I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything, if that's what you're worried about," he said dryly.

"And you'll stop taking risks?"

All the fight seemed to drain out of him, even as I watched, and he flopped back against his pillow, gazing up at me with a frown. Then he nodded, sighing deeply. "I'll do what you tell me to. I'll behave myself like a good little pawn should." He drew a deep breath. "I'm tired, Yuy. I'm so fuckin' tired."

"Then stop fighting us."

A bitter smile quirked his lips. "Sure, detective. Whatever you say. I'll sleep when you tell me to sleep, eat when you tell me to eat…hell, I'll let you both take turns fucking me if you want."

"We aren't that kind of cops."

"Yeah, well—I guess if you'd arrested me three years ago, Solo an' the others would still be alive, and I wouldn't be here." The indigo eyes fixed me with a look I couldn't decipher; it was some cross between regret and longing.

And I felt those same emotions knot up inside my chest—regret and longing. If he wasn't here, I wouldn't be either. I wouldn't have gotten to know _this _Duo Maxwell—the one who could make eating a cheeseburger erotic, and just about drive a man to orgasm by the way he consumed french fries—the one who could make gourmet spaghetti using frozen hamburger, canned tomato sauce, and the contents of a well-stocked spice rack—the one whose obvious misery was making me want to sit down beside him on that bed, put my arms around him, and offer comfort and support.

How had I gone from wanting to throttle him to wanting to take that miserable expression off his face?

"Don't you have some kind of detective shit to be doing?" he asked, his tone faintly mocking.

I realized I'd been staring, and forcibly pulled myself back together. "Yeah, I guess I do." I opened my mouth to caution him about safety, but he beat me to it.

"I'll leave the door ajar. I'll tell you or Chang if I'm going to the bathroom, or getting something out of the kitchen, or leaving this room for any reason at all. I won't make any phone calls. I won't go outside. I won't fucking breathe if you tell me not to." He closed his eyes. "But right now, my feet hurt worse than knowing Hilde sold me out, and I really want to sleep…if I can."

I nodded, turning to leave. But I paused at the door, looking back over my shoulder to see the same lost expression on his face I'd seen at the hospital just a few days earlier…days that seemed like weeks. "I'm sorry it turned out like that," I said rather lamely. "With Hilde, I mean."

He glanced up quickly—uncertainly. "Me too," he sighed, swallowing hard and looking away.


	23. Silence is not Golden

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: I debated over the name "Meilan" versus "Meiran." No matter how many sources I checked, there was no consensus. Wikipedia says it can go either way…so I went with the spelling in my copy of Episode Zero.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Three: Silence is not Golden

When I went downstairs, lost in my somber thoughts, Chang was nowhere to be seen, but the cellar door was open. I concluded he'd gone back to working on the laundry and trying to evade my questions. But I was in no mood to be dodged so easily.

I made my way down the stairs to find him stuffing clothes into the washing machine.

"I said we weren't done, and I meant it," I told him, leaning against the doorway and folding my arms across my chest.

"What do you want from me, Yuy?" he asked curtly, closing the lid and turning to face me.

"An explanation—preferably one that justifies the way you're treating Maxwell."

He couldn't quite meet my eyes, which was in itself a rare thing. "What's to justify? He's a criminal—a gang banger and a punk. That we must risk our lives to preserve his is simply unjust—and that he'd deliberately put us _all_ in danger—intolerable."

"It wasn't deliberate, and you know it."

"You were just as pissed, Yuy. Admit it."

"I was. I got over it. You didn't, and I want to know why."

"It's—personal," he replied evasively. "Can't we just leave it at that?"

"No. You pointed a gun at him. I need to know what drove you so far over the edge."

Granted, I'd pulled a gun on Maxwell myself—just before our ill-fated fling on the safe house floor—but I'd done it for the psychological effect. I'd never have dared pull the trigger. And though I'd threatened to kill Maxwell myself if he didn't get with the program, it had been nothing but an empty expression of the frustration I'd felt at the time. At so many times.

Wufei looked up then, sighing deeply. "If I tell you, it goes no further."

I nodded my agreement.

"You remember when I lamented that all the pretty girls seem to go for the gay guys? Well…I grew up with one of those pretty girls. Her name was Meilan, and she was my childhood sweetheart." He turned so that I couldn't see his face, gazing off into the shadows of the basement. "We talked about growing up and getting married some day."

Well, that was a revelation in and of itself. I'd never heard Wufei mention the girl before. But then, we didn't get into personal stuff very often—it seemed to be a taboo subject for us.

"We were in high school when Meilan met and fell for a guy she met one day in Chinatown. He was the leader of a gang, and bisexual. Apparently he broke up with a boy from his gang to steal my girlfriend. She dumped me, dropped out of school, and ran off with him…her parents were disconsolate. They tried everything to get her back." He shook his head ruefully. "To no avail."

I frowned thoughtfully. It seemed rather petty of Chang to hate gays just because one stole a girlfriend—but I sensed there was more to the story, so I held my tongue.

"Anyhow…" Chang continued, his voice a bit ragged. "Meilan was with him in Chinatown during some sort of gang war. A rival group tried to kill _him _in a drive-by, but they got her instead."

"Shit…" I should have seen _that _coming; Chang wasn't the type to hold a grudge for no reason. Of course it would be something deeply personal and painfully tragic that motivated such an act.

"I was with her parents when they went to the morgue to identify the body," my partner added in a near-whisper. He looked up with pained eyes. "She was shot six times, Yuy. And her fucking 'boyfriend' took off with his gang. She died alone on that street!"

"I'm…sorry, Chang," I said quietly.

He gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Me too," he muttered. "To top it all off, she was pregnant. The coroner said she was just a few weeks along—that possibly she didn't even know it yet." His dark eyes glimmered with anger. "But what do you want to bet if she'd told her no-good boyfriend he'd have dumped her on the spot?"

"You don't know that," I asserted. "Maybe he really _did _love her."

"And maybe he was just using her to help him get in good with the shopkeepers in Chinatown," came the bitter response. "She spoke fluent Mandarin, and her family name carried great weight among the locals. With at least three gangs vying for control of the drug trade in that area, any advantage was worth taking." He turned to face me again, putting his hands on his hips. "So—do you understand my hatred for gangs now? As I said, they poison the streets with drugs, corrupt young, innocent minds, and when a young girl gets gunned down on the street—they just _leave _her there—."

His voice broke on the final sentence.

"God, Chang—I had no idea—."

He made a sharp cutting gesture with one hand and shook his head. "Let it be, Yuy. This conversation is over." He pushed past me, and I watched him stalk quickly up the stairs, his back rigid with tension.

"Well, shit," I muttered.

I pushed off the wall to follow him, my mind spinning with the new information. Yes, Chang's animosity towards gangs seemed much more reasonable now. And yes, I could see where Maxwell raised all sorts of demons for my partner. Between his sexual orientation and his history, Maxwell was a poster boy for all that Chang hated most in the world…right down to that Grim Reaper tattoo on his bicep.

It might have been easier to deal with if Chang's anger was directed at the drug lords and crime bosses like Merquise and Khushrenada. But it was their gang boys he despised the most. His entire attitude with Maxwell stemmed not from the braided man's association with Merquise—but from Duo himself—from what he'd been, and done, and what he _was_.

I doubt Chang Wufei could have imagined a worse injustice than dying to preserve Maxwell's life. And his over-the-top reaction to our witness' latest transgression gained both explicability and validity.

But it didn't assuage my fears. Chang's explanation had done nothing to mitigate the feelings he held towards gangs and therefore towards Maxwell.

What had he said? Heartache? That barely covered the tragedy Wufei suffered at the hands of gangs. I was a little surprised he hadn't pulled the trigger after all.

And I was grateful for my partner's self-control. We won't even go into the reasons why.

When I got back upstairs, Wufei was watching the late news, which of course had accounts of the "shocking vandalism of attorney Quatre Winner's hunting lodge," as well as Treize Khushrenada's arrest on suspicion of murder, and naturally his release on bail.

Chang gave a wry snort. "Bail. As if the bastard couldn't flee the country six different ways within an hour."

"I'm sure they've got him under surveillance."

"So they can wave bye-bye as his private jet takes off…"

I was relieved at Chang's humor, no matter how sarcastically it came across.

"Don't worry about it," I suggested. "There's always extradition."

"But meanwhile, it'll still be you, me and Maxwell, hiding and dodging hit men."

"Let's just pretend, for the sake of argument and my sanity, that he won't flee the country," I said flatly. "He'll be the smug sonofabitch he's always been and figure he can beat the charges, and in no time at all, we'll turn Maxwell over to the D.A. and the sheriff's department and resume our peaceful life of law enforcement."

"Ah, you paint a pretty picture, Yuy," smirked my partner, who seemed to have regained his poise following our painful conversation. "With fantasies like that, why don't you take the first turn at sleeping? I slept last this morning, so you're due. Besides, your mind is obviously already set for dreaming…"

I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Enjoy watching the news, Chang." Without further discussion, I headed up the stairs, slowing as I passed Maxwell's door, and leaning to glance in.

Sure enough, he'd kicked off enough of his blankets that I could see he did, indeed, sleep in the nude. And yeah, I'd noticed it back in the first safe house the night the hit men came, but honestly, how much time had I really had to enjoy it?

He was sprawled face down, legs tangled in the blankets, and arms spread-eagled, snoring quietly. I let my gaze take in the Grim Reaper tattoo, and then examine the others he had. There were kanji symbols for Shinigami, the God of Death on the back of his shoulder, and on his lower back was a pair of stylized angel wings; on his right butt cheek a tiger crouched as if to spring towards them.

Of course, that drew my gaze straight to where it shouldn't have gone—the lean, muscular buttocks and thighs and the cleft of his exposed ass. And I closed my eyes and groaned, fighting the urge to start licking at his ankles and work my way up that perfectly delicious looking body.

I made the mistake of opening my eyes before I turned away, and my breath caught in my throat as Maxwell murmured in his sleep and rolled over, giving me even more to look at.

God, he had a body that wouldn't quit! My eyes slid from his closed ones to the soft, relaxed lips—down the hard-muscled chest and flat abs to his groin. And that was every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.

I hadn't had much time for just _looking _at him when we'd made love on the safe house floor.

Wait! Scratch that! We fucked…plain and simple. I needed to keep that clear in my mind before I sank any deeper under the Maxwell spell.

But there in the darkened hallway, I had all the time in the world to just watch him sleep—to let my eyes caress the skin my hands ached to touch.

After a few minutes of that self-imposed torture, I pulled myself away with a Herculean effort, staggering back a step or two and sucking in a much needed breath.

I must have made some kind of sound, because Maxwell stirred, mumbling restlessly, and I fled down the hall before he could wake up and catch me standing there staring. But I knew what kind of dreams I'd have that night.

* * *

I awakened to the sound of a steady, heavy rain on the roof, and a hint of daylight peeping at the edges of my drawn shades. When I tried to sit up, my overtaxed muscles protested, and I groaned at the lingering fatigue, vowing to step up my exercise program before the next forty-mile hike I made.

When I finally pushed myself upright, stretching to loosen up, I wondered why Chang hadn't awakened me. And why I smelled food, and—coffee?

Oh, God, was Maxwell cooking again?

I shoved off the covers and grabbed my clothes, making a quick stop at the bathroom to freshen up, and checking Maxwell's room on my way past to determine that he had, indeed, already gotten up. Within minutes I was padding down the stairs in a pair of borrowed slippers, drooling over the scent of brewing coffee.

Wufei was sound asleep on the couch, and I stopped in my tracks, both concerned and a bit irritated. He'd fallen asleep on the job, which under normal circumstances would have been inexcusable.

But these weren't normal circumstances at all. We'd all been deprived of sleep, shot at and chased. Even the brief naps we'd managed to grab had been restless at best. I could understand Chang's fatigue.

On top of our harrowing escape from the previous safe house, we'd dealt with the discovery of Maxwell's foolishness, and the issues Wufei had with gangs and gays in general. It's a wonder any of us had stayed awake as long as we did.

The alarm system certainly would have sounded if there'd been an intruder—and knowing we had that extra bit of security, I could forgive Chang's lapse. Not that I'd ever let him live it down…

Tiptoeing past him, I headed for the kitchen, wondering if I'd be treated to the amusing sight of Maxwell in an apron again.

But this morning he was in sweats and a tee shirt, his feet clad only in socks and his braid looking rather unkempt. I'd never seen him look so disheveled; even in the car he'd always taken the time to brush out his extraordinary hair.

"Rough night?" I teased, making a beeline for the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup.

He turned from flipping pancakes, to reveal a face lined with fatigue. And although he gave a wan smile, it was half-hearted at best. "Guess I got used to sleeping on the ground," he shrugged, walking over and setting a plate piled with pancakes on the table.

"Where'd you find pancake mix that hadn't spoiled?" I wondered aloud. "And doesn't it take milk to make pancakes?"

He gave another shrug, and I realized how listless he seemed. "There was powdered milk in a vacuum-sealed jar…powdered eggs…frozen butter. They really stocked this place for an all-out siege."

"Bacon?" I said, fixated on the meal. "Orange juice? How long have you been up?"

"Awhile." He picked up his coffee cup and sat at the table, putting a couple of pancakes and some bacon on his plate, and slathering the whole mess in maple syrup.

I followed his example—minus the overload of syrup—with my mouth watering in anticipation. "Was Chang asleep when you got up?"

"Yeah."

"And he hasn't moved?"

"Not a hair."

"He's usually a light sleeper," I mused, slicing my meal into bite-sized pieces.

"Sleep with him often?" came a rather tart reply.

I looked up sharply. "Only on stakeouts," I said, biting back a more sarcastic retort. "And generally he's on a hair trigger."

Maxwell used a piece of pancake to sop up some of the excess syrup his bacon was swimming in. "I don't make much noise."

I couldn't help it—I snorted skeptically, thinking of his music, his mouth, and his attitude. Though I did have to admit, he could move very quietly when he wanted to.

"Except during sex," he added helpfully, keeping his gaze demurely on his food.

Oh God, I knew how true _that _was—and a memory of his groans and the screamed obscenities as he came made me pause with a bite halfway to my mouth.

He ran a finger across his syrupy plate and stuck it in his mouth, sucking noisily on the sweet, sticky substance.

"Goddamnit—!" I was halfway to my feet, my only goal to kiss and lick every drop of syrup from his lips (and then maybe pour it over the rest of him and do more of the same), when Chang stumbled wearily into the kitchen, stopping me in place.

"Yuy? Oh fuck, you're up! I—I'm sorry I fell asleep!" he blurted in horror.

"It's okay, Wufei," I assured him, my voice just a bit hoarse. "We were all pretty much exhausted—and with the alarm system, there was no real danger. No harm done." I turned to face him, gesturing to the table with a less than steady hand. "Breakfast?"

He looked from me to Maxwell, and I could see him visibly compose himself before nodding assent. "Sounds good."

I settled back into my seat as he went over and poured himself some coffee before joining us at the table. And as I resumed eating, I noticed that Maxwell hadn't said a word—no teasing, sniping or banter—not even a "good morning" to my partner.

I looked searchingly at him, but he seemed focused on fishing his bacon out of the syrup and eating it. In fact, he was fixated on it to the exclusion of all else.

I couldn't tell if his mood was sullen and defiant, or if he was just worn down and beaten; but either way, he'd withdrawn from interaction of any kind, and I found it unexpectedly disturbing.

I didn't want to think he was afraid of Chang; but then, my partner _had _pulled a gun on him. If that ever got back to Captain Po, Wufei could lose his badge.

Perhaps that was on both of their minds.

Finishing his last bite, Maxwell got up and took the dishes to the sink, rinsing them under hot water and then squeezing in some dish soap and proceeding to wash them. By the time Chang and I were done eating, our witness had cleaned and put away all the cookware and dishes except what we were using.

Then he turned to fix me with a steady, somber look. "I'll be in my room," he said politely, walking out before my jaw finished hitting the floor.

Chang looked no less nonplussed. "Yuy? What's with him?"

"He told me last night that he'd report every move he makes to us. I'd assume that's what he just did."

"No shit." The onyx eyes narrowed fractionally. "So he's sulking?"

"No." I shook my head. "More like—," _broken _"—cooperating. I think it really bothered him that his phone call brought so much trouble down on us."

"It should."

"Wufei—."

Dark eyes flashed. "I'm not speaking from prejudice now, Yuy. He screwed up. Regardless of any personal issues I have with him, he was wrong."

"He knows that."

My partner sat back, sighing deeply. "And there you go defending him—again." He frowned at me, and I tensed, waiting for an accusation or speculation, but none came.

"We all make mistakes," I said carefully, refraining from pointing out that he'd just fallen asleep on duty. And yes, I also refrained from mentioning the gun he pulled on Maxwell, or my own numerous transgressions (which I hoped Chang _never _found out about).

Wufei nodded. "You're right. And no matter how often I've said I'd try harder—I seem to keep losing my perspective when it comes to Maxwell." He pinned me with a disconcerting gaze. "So do you, and I'm at a loss to explain it."

"He defies explanation," I said simply.

Chang let out a burst of laughter at that. "You have a gift for understatement, Yuy."

I merely shrugged. "At any rate, I'm going to take a walk around the yard and check out the vehicle in the garage. You can find yourself a bedroom and get some real rest if you like."

He nodded. "I only dozed off around dawn I think." The dark eyes found the clock on the microwave. "I probably got two…maybe three hours of sleep. I could definitely use more."

"Then by all means, get your ass to bed." I looked at the rain running down the windows, and the flat grayness beyond. "Miserable weather; we're lucky we got here when we did."

My partner shuddered dramatically. "I can't imagine trying to haul our gear and Maxwell through that kind of downpour."

It was on the tip of my tongue to defend Duo once again—to point out that he'd hiked uncomplainingly for all forty-plus miles we'd gone. Aside from a groan or grumble now and then, he'd been an amazingly good sport. And that was before we knew it was his phone call that got us into trouble—so it couldn't have been guilt that motivated his spirit of cooperation.

He'd tried to help bandage my leg, too, that first night in the woods, and I'd forcibly rebuffed him. I felt worse about that now than ever. He hadn't been making any sexual overture at the time. I was beginning to learn the difference between his smart-ass attitude and the more genuine side he was starting to let show.

"Although," Wufei continued with a pensive look on his face as he gazed into his coffee cup, "in all fairness, I have to admit, he carried his weight out there."

"Yes, he did," I agreed quickly. Seizing upon the opening, I gave my partner a long, frank look. "I've never known you to be an unfair man, Wufei. Maybe if you just—try to see past the labels you've placed on him, you'll find he's not so intolerable after all."

Chang gave a quiet chuckle. "I'll have to sleep on that, Yuy. But—maybe." He got up and headed out of the kitchen to get some rest, and I washed the few remaining dishes and went outside.

It was pouring rain still—coming down in steady sheets across the flat gray landscape. The water in the lake was peppered by drops, stirred into a silvery mist where the rain met the surface. It was quite beautiful, really. And I recalled that I'd wanted to share that beauty with Maxwell the previous night. But there'd be no loon-watching in the heavy rain.

I made my perimeter sweep fairly quickly, taking notice of the dock and boathouse on the shore of the lake, as well as a small, sandy beach and a raft that was anchored about a hundred feet offshore. It looked like the perfect vacation getaway for a family.

When I let myself into the boathouse, using the same key code the house required, I found a canoe, a rowboat, and two motorboats…one of which looked sleek and fast, while the other seemed better suited to fishing or just cruising the lake. I decided Maxwell didn't need to know about the damned speed boat, and found myself smirking as I locked up the building and headed back up towards the house.

I was soaked to the skin by the time I'd finished my brief tour, but knowing there was a hot shower available, I almost enjoyed the trek through the rain.

When I got to the garage, I found a sporty little convertible and another solid SUV. It didn't take me a minute to pull the wires on the convertible and stash them behind a couple of gas cans, where Maxwell would be unlikely to find them. Not that I thought he'd bolt again—but honestly, the man was a veritable powder keg, and it was damned hard to tell what would set him off at any given time.

I needn't have worried. When the time came for supper, I'd spent a singularly quiet afternoon taking a shower and dressing in warm, dry clothes—then watching a bit of the news on t.v. to catch up on current events. It's funny how trudging through the wilderness can distance you from reality. I watched news chronicling Khushrenada's arrest and subsequent release on bail with a strange sense of detachment. Frankly, the task of investigating and building the case was out of my hands; my only job was to get the witness to the trial alive and able to testify.

I watched two of the other detectives in the department ushering Khushrenada into the precinct, and then Captain Po telling the press that there would be no information released this early in the investigation. Of course, Khushrenada's attorney, a slimy shark named Septum, claimed it was all a mistake—that the police had persecuted his innocent client for years, and that Merquise's death was due to his own shady dealings and had nothing to do with the head of Romefeller Industries.

Right. I muted the sound as I heard a faint noise from upstairs.

A door closed, and I heard footsteps in the hallway, and then the sound of the shower. I glanced at the clock, realizing it was late enough that Chang must be up and about.

Sure enough, he came downstairs shortly thereafter, and settled in one of the armchairs. "I see you're catching up on the latest in the case," he noted, gesturing to the muted television. "Is that Dorothy Catalonia with Septum?"

I looked back in surprise. Sure enough, one of the public defenders had apparently partnered with the firm that was defending Khushrenada. "Well shit."

"You know she's always been ambitious," Chang noted. "I'm surprised she stayed a public defender as long as she did." He shook his head. "The woman's got a vicious streak, Yuy. I hope Maxwell's up for a painful cross-examination."

"He's tough," I said firmly. "He can handle her. Look at the way he held up in interrogation."

"That's because he was on familiar turf. The witness stand will be a new experience for him."

"The D.A. will have him ready," I assured my partner. "Noventa's one of the best."

Wufei nodded. "Shall I see what we have for supper?" he asked, standing and stretching. "You can brief me on what to watch for while I do a perimeter sweep before dark, and then we can check in with Po."

We made our way out to the kitchen and were busy preparing microwaveable meals when Maxwell sauntered in, still wearing the same baggy sweats he'd had on in the morning.

He eyed both Chang and me as he headed for the refrigerator, snagging a can of soda and then pausing by the table. "You want me to whip something up?" he asked helpfully.

Wufei had his back to him, or Maxwell might have seen the way my partner's jaw tightened, and the concerted effort he made at civility. "We need no help here, Maxwell," he said coolly.

The indigo eyes darted a quick glance at me, as if asking for confirmation of that fact, and I shrugged noncommittally.

"Fine," Maxwell said quietly. "I'll stay the fuck out of the way." He walked back out as quickly as he'd entered, and I cast a scathing glare at Chang.

"Jesus, Wufei."

"What?" demanded my partner, turning to face me. "I didn't snap at him. I just told him we don't need his help." He waved a microwave meal box at me. "We've got dinner covered."

"Yes, but the way you worded it—."

"What should I have said?"

"A simple 'no thanks' would have sufficed."

Wufei gave a frustrated huff. "I'm not used to pleasantries, Yuy. Even if I didn't despise Maxwell, I'd have said it the same way. Do I have to change my wording on everything?"

"No, you don't," I sighed. "But maybe next time he asks, you could just let him help. Let him feel useful. I mean, shit Chang, there's nothing else for him to do here. At least cooking would keep him occupied." I wistfully recalled the previous night's delicious meal as the timer on the microwave dinged. "Besides, no offense, but he's a better cook than either of us!"

Chang ducked his head at that, acknowledging the truth. "Very well," he sighed. "Next time I'll turn the kitchen over to him."

But that "next time" never came.

* * *

The next two days passed in perfect, peaceful silence. Chang and I did our perimeter sweeps, learned every inch of the property we were defending, checked in with the Captain, and caught up on some much-needed rest.

Maxwell took to eating in his room. He'd pad quietly through the safe house, slip into the kitchen and make himself some soup, or a bowl of whatever we'd cooked for dinner, and then he'd disappear back up the stairs. He even went so far as to bring the dishes down and wash and put them away without being asked.

It was—unsettling—to say the least.

I half expected to find him sobbing into his pillow every time I walked past the door that he left conspicuously ajar. But usually he was just sprawled across his bed listening to music on the headphones and doodling in some sort of sketch pad. The only emotion I ever detected when he glanced up as I passed was stubborn defiance.

While his body went through the motions, and his behavior was totally compliant, I thought a trace of his willful spirit remained. And strangely, I longed to see it blossom once again.

I'd have given anything for him to blow up at me for something—to call me an asshole and curse my profession. But he never did. He didn't flirt, or tease, or interact with Chang and me in any way, except to answer direct questions—and I didn't seem to have any to ask.

The third day I called Winner.

While I knew our battery supply was dangerously low, I also knew Maxwell was slipping into a place from which I feared he'd never come back.

"Winner speaking."

"Quatre—it's Heero—er, Detective Yuy."

He must have caught the somber tone of my voice. "Oh God—is Duo all right? You're calling me instead of Po! What's happened?"

"Nothing—nothing!" I assured him. "He's fine. At least—physically he's fine." I heard a voice in the background demanding to know what was going on. Barton's voice? I raised an eyebrow at that.

"It's okay, Trowa. No, he's not hurt, right Heero?"

"Right!" I said quickly.

"So—what did you mean by 'physically he's fine' then?"

Trust Winner to get right to the point. The man didn't miss a trick.

"He seems—quiet," I said, fumbling for the right way to describe his mood. "Subdued."

"I'd have expected you to enjoy that."

Was that a hint of accusation in Winner's voice? I bristled at the implied criticism. "He's not acting like himself," I said curtly. "I thought maybe you could talk to him—find out what's on his mind."

"For Allah's sake, Yuy. You're a grown man. Can't _you _talk to him?"

"Not if I'm part of the problem," I retorted. "Look—I kind of blew up at him the other day. When I found out about his phone call to that Schbeiker woman—."

"Oh." There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "Captain Po told me about the call. I imagine Duo feels pretty badly about it."

"He should. He almost got us all killed."

"And no doubt that fact is weighing heavily on his mind right now. Do you really think he needs the burden of you laying a guilt trip on him about it?"

I heard Trowa's voice again—sharp and demanding—wanting to talk to Duo.

"Hush—just let me handle this!" Winner told him firmly. "Heero? Still there? Yes, I'll talk to Duo, if you could put him on."

"Just a minute." I climbed the stairs two at a time and tapped on Maxwell's open door.

He looked up from the pad on which he was writing—or maybe drawing. "Yeah—whaddaya want?"

I held out the phone. "Winner's on the line."

Maxwell flipped the notebook shut and sat up. "Thought we were saving the batteries." His tone was faintly sarcastic.

I shoved the phone at him. "Just take it!" I snapped.

His fingers brushed mine as he took the phone, and I saw a visible wince.

Where the hell did _that _come from, I wondered, as I headed for the door to give him some privacy.

"Quat? Hey, it _is_ you," he said, brightening. "What's up man? Me? I'm fine, why?"

I couldn't help my very bad habit of eavesdropping. What can I say? I'm cursed with keen ears and way too much curiosity.

"No…I'm not. Well, maybe a little."

I could almost picture the casual shrug.

"It's…a little lonely," he said so quietly I barely heard it. "Naw. Sheesh, Quat, stop worrying. And what's this I hear about you ogling my ass that night at the police station, hm?" He chuckled slyly, and my embarrassment at having Winner find out about my slip-up was overridden by relief at hearing Maxwell laugh.

"'S okay, Quat. You're hot, too. Seriously hot. Got that whole dreamy blue-eyed thing goin' on. Hm? Yeah, you do!"

It was incredible to hear the teasing banter slide off his tongue again after three days of near-silence. God, how I'd missed that voice—that laugh!

"Tro'?" Maxwell's voice rose in delight, a slight hitch at the end. "Fuck—it's good to hear your voice," he said breathlessly. "I wish I could see you…" There were a couple of minutes of silence, as he must have been listening raptly to his former lover. "Yeah, me too." I heard an audible sigh, even from my position halfway down the hall. "I'll be okay. Don't worry about me. I'm just—tired of all this. I want my life back." He drew a shaky breath. "Yeah, him too. I had to watch the funeral on t.v., Tro'. It just—hurt. A lot. I lost my head is all. It won't happen again." I heard him pacing restlessly across his room. "I promised to behave—and I have been." Then he chuckled at something Barton said. "Huh. Figures."

There were a few more moments of silence, and then Maxwell spoke up again. "I know. Gotta save the batteries anyway. Hey—do me a favor? Kiss the living shit outta Quat, hm? Yeah, I can tell you like him. Why else would you conveniently be there when he called me? Hm? What do you mean, Yuy called him? Why?"

Shit. All I needed was for Maxwell to think I'd been worrying about him.

"Psh—yeah, right. No Tro'. I think you're delusional." The faintly mocking tone was back in Maxwell's voice. "Okay. I'll take your word for that. You take care of yourself, okay? If I lost you, too—." He gave a sort of choked laugh. "Yeah, hang on."

There was a brief pause, and then, "You can come in, Yuy. I think Quat wants another minute of your time."

I blushed at being caught. I should've known the master of stealth would realize I hadn't gone far. "I wasn't—. I didn't mean to overhear anything," I said fumblingly as he met me at the door with the cell phone.

"It's called 'eavesdropping,' Yuy. And yeah, you did mean to overhear every word." The indigo eyes met mine in a piercingly direct manner that took my breath away. "I didn't expect any less. Y'got no reason to trust me." He shoved the phone back into my hand and went back to throw himself across the bed, resuming his drawing as if I wasn't there.

I put the phone to my ear, wondering if Maxwell was trying to apologize for taking off, or warn me he might do it again. "Yuy."

"Eavesdropping is very bad form," came Quatre's chiding voice.

"You're one to talk," I countered, since he'd just done it himself.

He gave a wry chuckle. "Not my fault you held the phone too close to your mouth."

"Not my fault Maxwell's voice carries into the hallway," I retorted rather lamely. "What did you want, Winner?"

"Your Captain expressed some concern about your laptop surveillance system being destroyed. I thought I might arrange a delivery…personally."

I grimaced a little, heading back downstairs as I pondered the idea. "Sounds awfully risky. If you were followed—."

"Ah, but I won't be. I'd have a—friend—drive me. On his motorcycle."

"Oh." I caught the hint at once. He was suggesting Barton could bring him, thus killing two birds with one stone. They'd deliver a new laptop and fulfill Maxwell's wish to see his former lover. "That might be a very good idea," I mused. "We could use cell batteries and groceries, too."

"I'm sure we can accommodate those needs, and I know a bit of company would please my client."

Yeah—a little _too _much, unless I missed my guess. Although, on the plus side, it would take Maxwell's attention off me. He and Barton could screw each other silly while I stayed focused on my job.

"Do it," I said firmly, trying to squelch a small specter of jealousy at the thought of Barton enjoying the feel of Maxwell's lean, lithe body the way I so recently had.

I'd already told myself it could never happen again. I couldn't let my desires get in the way of my mission. And Maxwell had backed off—which made it easier to avoid a repeat performance.

"I'll have the Captain contact you with a date and ETA."

"Understood."

"And Heero?"

"Hm?"

"Be gentle with him. No matter how good a front he puts up, he's still hurting inside. I can feel it—hear it in his voice. You were right to call me."

"I just want to keep him safe," I said quietly. "From himself, if necessary."

Quatre laughed again. "He's not suicidal, Yuy."

"Well you wouldn't know that from some of the shit he's pulled."

"He's restless—that's all. It's hard for him to be inactive for this long."

"For his defense attorney, you know an awful lot about him."

"I've got his best friend right beside me, Yuy. And he's told me a lot that I need to know—that _you _need to know."

"All I need to know is that he'll be fit to testify when we finally get a trial date."

"Hm—and that's why you were worried enough to call me about his mood," teased the blonde.

"Winner!"

"Catch you later, Yuy. Gotta run…"

He hung up before I could try to deny any emotional interest in Maxwell. But that was probably for the best; I've always been a lousy liar.


	24. You Just Can't Trust Broads

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Four: You Just Can't Trust Broads

I didn't tell Maxwell that Winner and Barton would be coming to visit. First off, I didn't want to get his hopes up, in case Captain Po vetoed the whole idea once she heard about it. And secondly, I didn't want him worrying about them getting to us safely.

Frankly, I had my own worries. If they were followed, it could be the death of us all. I hoped both men were shrewd enough to cover their tracks. They wouldn't be able to tell anyone where they were going, or for how long. Nor could they just blissfully drive out of the city and assume no one would get suspicious and try to pursue them. They'd have to leave as abruptly and decisively as Chang and I had.

I hoped they understood all that entailed.

I pushed those worries to the back of my mind as I headed downstairs to fill Chang in on the possibilities.

He was in the kitchen defrosting a nondescript package of meat in the microwave, and looked up as I entered. "All's quiet outside, Yuy. I think we've found a genuine safe haven here."

I shook my head, not so complacent. "It's only a matter of time, Chang. Knowing Winner supplied our last safe house, Khushrenada will eventually think of his sisters and start checking for property in their names within a radius of the log cabin." He darted me a wary look. "It's what I'd do," I added.

A frown creased his forehead. "That reminds me—I've been meaning to ask Maxwell if his girlfriend knew who his attorney was."

"She's not his girlfriend, and _why_?"

My partner did a double-take, and then just shook his head. "Girlfriend or not—she told Khushrenada he called, and gave him the phone number—but _he's _the one who sent people not to the town where the call originated, but to the Winner home an hour away."

Why had I not seen that?

I found myself staring wide-eyed at Wufei. "Shit, Chang. You have a point."

He nodded, looking a bit smug. "I've had some time to think about this. But I don't like where it leads."

"Right back to the precinct," I concluded. "There's still a leak there!"

"Exactly."

"I'm calling Po." I checked the battery, noting the charge was sufficient for only a couple more calls. And although we had a spare, because of the power required to bounce the signal, we couldn't rely on either battery lasting much longer.

I really did _not _want to resort to a land line—and without my laptop, I felt completely cut off. Why did they not make cell phones you could plug into a regular outlet, damn it? I mean, sure, you could use it and charge it at the same time—but it all came back to battery power eventually. And even rechargeable ones had limited life spans.

When my boss picked up, I felt a mixture of relief and worry. "Captain—I'm afraid I've got bad news."

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"No! Not _that _kind. He's fine," I asserted quickly. "But there's a huge leak in the precinct, and you need to nail it down quickly!"

"A leak? What kind of leak?"

"Have you interviewed the Schbeiker girl yet?"

"Yes, we picked her up right after you told us who Maxwell called."

That had been the same night of the big blow-up and Duo's subsequent malaise. I'd touched base with Po to tell her how we'd been compromised.

"What did she have to say?"

"Not much. She lawyered right up with Catalonia."

Of course she did. It was your typical case of "birds of a feather;" the cutthroat lawyer and the greedy stripper…two cold-hearted bitches. See why I preferred men?

"Shit." I rubbed my forehead wearily, plunking down in a chair. "Look, Captain. Chang and I have been talking, and we don't think the girl knew Maxwell's attorney. Back at the hospital she just called him 'Quatre,' and didn't seem to know anything about him except that he'd been at the apartment with Barton."

"Ah." Our Captain was a bright woman, and I was counting on her to put the rest of the pieces together. "So—if all she gave Khushrenada was a phone number that had no way of being traced to Winner—why did he send people to the nearest Winner property to the place the call was made from?"

"Exactly." I squirmed a little on my seat, knowing Chang wasn't going to like what I had to say next. "You have to consider that the leak is someone close to you, sir. Like a secretary, perhaps?"

"Are you serious?!" Chang and Po blurted in unison and in stereo.

I held the phone away from my ear, and glared at my partner. "I'm just saying—."

"Well stop saying it!' blurted Chang. "Relena has no ties to Khushrenada! For Christ's sake, Yuy, she's the police chief's daughter!"

"Yes, and Zechs Merquise's half-sister. But that's not the point."

"Of course it is! She's a nice, respectable girl! She doesn't even know she's related to scum like Merquise!"

"What was that?" asked Captain Po. "Did you guys just say Relena and Zechs Merquise are related?"

I felt like throwing the phone out the window. "Yes, but that has nothing to do with the matter at hand," I growled, trying to stay on task.

"It has everything to do with it!" Chang snapped. "Goddamnit, Yuy! You coddle a fucking criminal and then suggest that a sweet girl like Relena Darlian is in cahoots with Treize Khushrenada? Are you nuts?"

I stood up, facing him squarely. "No, I'm not. You claim I'm blind to Maxwell's faults—well, how about you and Relena? At least I acknowledge that Maxwell's got a checkered past! Are you willing to consider that Relena had access to the information that got compromised?"

"Of course she did. But she'd never give it to the likes of Khushrenada!"

You'd think someone who'd been jilted by a fickle woman wouldn't be so damned soft for a pair of big eyes and pouty lips. Talk about misplaced trust!

"Um, Yuy? Could we get back to the part where she's Merquise's sister?" Captain Po snapped in my ear.

Fuck.

I glared at Chang, got up, and took the phone outside to finish the call. I could hear him banging pots and pans around in the kitchen even from out on the deck.

"Look, Captain, we found out during the investigation that Relena's mother was also Merquise's. They were half-brother and sister. Relena doesn't know that, according to her father."

"You told the Chief?"

"He knew. We questioned him about it, and he told us the two had never had any contact; Lillian was divorced, and Relena never was told about her brother. He stayed with his father."

"I see."

"Now can we get back to the question of who's slipping information to Khushrenada?" I asked a bit petulantly. I really wanted to know.

"Very well. Admittedly, Relena saw Winner with you and Chang the night we made plans to put Maxwell into protective custody."

"Yes, and she knew I had a witness in the Khushrenada case—I even described Maxwell to her that night that Mueller showed up at the station. And then, when I checked in that first time she'd realized Chang and I were on a protective detail."

"So, she had the information. But what about motive? She's got no ties to Khushrenada, and she never knew her brother—so why would she have reason to tip anyone off—especially her brother's accused killer?"

"I—don't know," I admitted. "But—I just want to be sure you keep her out of the loop from now on—in case."

"Winner is a public defender, Yuy. Don't you think Khushrenada could have just guessed that he was Maxwell's attorney?"

"Well, sure. But why would he think a P.D. would house a protected witness in his vacation home?"

"Hm. That bears some thought," she conceded. "Clearly _someone _in the department has fed him information. Winner's been to see me several times, and it's not outside the realm of possibility that the desk sergeant or some of the other office staff have put two and two together."

"But only Relena was there that first night. And if she listened in—."

"Oh, Heero—that's quite the accusation," came a disapproving reply. "It's just as possible someone's been sitting out in the street with a listening device trying to pick up on my phone conversations. You have to consider, with the technology available, there are a million ways for information to leak."

"Then fucking _plug _them!" I snapped, pacing angrily across the deck. "For God's sake, Captain—make sure we don't end up dodging bullets and bombs again! Maxwell's hanging on by a goddamned thread right now! The pressure's getting to all of us—to the point where I called Winner tonight and had him calm his client down!" Okay, technically I had him cheer Maxwell up, but either way, he'd had a soothing influence. "We need you to put a lid on things at that end, while we keep it together here."

"I will," she said simply. "But I'm not going to make wild accusations either. I'll watch for suspicious behavior—from _anyone_. And I'll tighten security—a lot."

"Don't ignore the slightest possibility of a leak," I cautioned. "Trust no one."

"Do you trust me?" she asked almost teasingly.

"I have to, or there's no point to this," I replied. "Besides, if you were the leak, we'd already be dead."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said dryly.

"One more thing," I told her. "Winner's probably going to contact you today or tomorrow. Meet him away from the office, would you?"

"I can do that."

"And warn him before he says a word that there's a huge risk involved."

"I'll do that, too."

God—on some level I felt like I was overreacting—but the thought that Relena, or someone with access to even more information, was feeding it to Khushrenada made me a bundle of nerves.

"Tell him that the plans he and I made will require complete secrecy." I shook my head. "But frankly, maybe getting Barton and him away from the city is a good idea."

"I don't follow you. Is he going somewhere?"

"I've advised him to," I said carefully, once again paranoid about being overheard. So far we'd only discussed leaks and possibilities—not future plans. I didn't want to say anything about Winner's imminent visit—nothing that would make someone start watching him, if they weren't already. "Tell him he's probably under surveillance, and he should act accordingly. The same for Barton. If anyone suspects they're up to anything, they won't get far."

"Are you suggesting they might be targeted?"

"Yes." Actually, I was more concerned that they might be followed—to us. "Just warn him that he could be watched, followed, or attacked—anywhere he goes."

There. I hadn't said he was coming to us—but I wanted Captain Po to let him know how risky it was—which was why having her preface their conversation with news of the department leak would make him guard his words carefully.

"I can't call him again," I added. "Too risky. And I don't want you to. But when he checks in, get him away and alone so he can tell you what he and I discussed—okay?"

"Will do." She sounded a bit befuddled by all the intrigue—and I think she thought I was being a bit melodramatic. But then, she hadn't seen Chang's bullet-ridden shirt, or been bounced around the back of an SUV on a logging road while being shot at. I thought I was being reasonably cautious.

* * *

When I got back inside, Maxwell was in the kitchen with Wufei, and they'd gotten into yet another altercation. And while I was glad Maxwell's spirit was returning, making him confrontational again was _not _what I'd had in mind when I called Winner.

"She sold you out, Maxwell!" Wufei was snarling. "Why in Hell would you not want them to prosecute her?"

Maxwell had his hands flat on the table, his eyes ablaze with a familiar light. "She's got a kid, Chang—a little boy. And if they throw her in jail, the kid'll end up in foster care and get fuckin' swallowed by the System!"

"Tough!" Chang blurted. "His mother's a stripper and now a felon—he'd be better off in foster care."

"No, he wouldn't!" Maxwell retorted. "Hilde works her ass off to keep him fed and clothed and pay for immunizations and doctor's visits! She loves that kid."

"She sold you out for that kid," I pointed out quietly.

"Yeah, I know—and that's why I can't really blame her," Maxwell said, calming slightly. "The money—."

"—would keep the kid in diapers for years," I finished for him, and he nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor. "So you don't want to see her punished for nearly getting you killed?"

He shrugged slightly. "I guess—it's partly my fault anyway. She kind of thought there was more to our friendship at first than there was—until she found out I was dating Zechs."

"She didn't know that when you first started working at Sanc?"

"No—Zechs stayed away. He may've gotten me the job, and I'm sure Dermail knew about us, but we kept a pretty low profile, publicly." He managed a rueful smile. "Hilde and I had a bit of a spat when she found out I was gay. She accused me of leading her on."

"Did you?" Chang asked archly, and once again I could feel that resentment in him towards gay guys and their effect on straight girls.

"Not on purpose," Maxwell shrugged, overlooking the harshness of my partner's tone. "But she was always looking for a potential husband—someone to help make ends meet and be a father figure. When I started at Sanc and was friendly and male, she thought she might've found that."

Chang snorted in disgust, and I sighed, shaking my head. "How long did you wait to set her straight?" I asked, wondering how much of the betrayal was based on money, and how much on emotion.

"Not very. Couple of weeks—maybe a month. We'd worked late and there was a guy who'd been kind of creeping Hilde out, so I walked her home. She came on to me, and I told her I was sorry, but I was gay and involved with someone. She blew up at me and stormed off, but the next day she apologized and asked if we could start over and just be friends again." He shook his head. "Even though she said that's all it was, sometimes the way she looked at me, I could tell she wanted more."

"You were a bodyguard. You looked out for her and kept her safe," I pointed out. "It's only natural she'd be attracted to you."

"She was attracted to the security, and the income," he said rather bitterly. "But—like I said, I don't blame her for trying. And I don't blame her for choosing her son over me, especially after I hurt her."

"—a woman scorned, eh?" I commented.

"Yeah, I guess," he said softly.

I watched him for a moment as he fiddled with the end of his braid, and Chang went back to working on supper. It was odd to see a side of Duo so different from the brassy punk. I could have pictured him sneering, shrugging nonchalantly, and saying "tough luck" to a girl like her; at least, I could picture the Duo Maxwell I'd met at first doing that. But the man standing restlessly in the kitchen was nothing like that. He seemed genuinely sorry to have disappointed her. Had _all _of his posturing and snideness been just for show? Or had it been just for cops?

He gave a little exasperated huff, looking at Wufei struggle with the package of half-thawed meat, and turned and walked out into the living room.

I watched my partner for a moment, amused by his stubbornness. "If you'd asked nicely, I'll bet he'd have cooked dinner."

Dark eyes shot an icy look my way. "I'd sooner starve."

Ah. It was too soon after a discussion of gender issues to approach him with anything like a reasonable attitude. I just shook my head. "You're a harsh man, Chang."

"I'm not the one who accused a lovely girl like Relena of being in league with Treize Khushrenada."

Oh. Right. I'd almost forgotten the issues left hanging between us. "I didn't accuse her. I merely pointed out that she had opportunity."

"But no motive."

"None that we know of," I conceded. "And I'm not suggesting we blame or accuse her—merely that the Captain should keep anyone and everyone at the precinct completely out of the information loop as much as possible."

My partner nodded stiffly, and there was an almost imperceptible decrease in the tension he'd been radiating. "A wise precaution," he admitted. "As long as it applies to everyone."

"Exactly." Feeling like I'd won a little forgiveness, I headed into the other room to see what Maxwell was up to. But he'd apparently already gone back upstairs.

And yes, I checked. Not that I thought he'd try anything—I was convinced by this time that he'd learned his lesson. But in all honesty, I wanted to be sure he was okay.

I even managed to convince myself I wasn't hoping for another glimpse of that pale skin and those muscular legs. Almost.

Lucky for me, Maxwell was in the shower, the sound of running water muted by the music he'd turned on in there—his usual choice of rock and roll with a decidedly primal beat.

Okay, maybe that wasn't so lucky. I was instantly assaulted with a mental image of him standing under the spray of hot water, swaying sensuously to that rhythm. And knowing he'd left the door slightly ajar as he'd done ever since the last safe house, didn't help much.

I retreated to my room to take care of a slight problem that had arisen, and hopefully have time for a shower of my own before checking to see if Chang had actually managed to manufacture anything resembling food for dinner.

We ended up eating frozen meals.

Well, Chang and I did. Maxwell didn't put in an appearance until after we'd consumed our less than satisfying repast. And when he did, he rummaged in the refrigerator and put together something for himself that smelled ten times better than the crap we'd settled for.

Chang was on the couch watching the news when I passed through on my way to take my turn at sleeping, and I whacked the back of his head on my way by. "I swear to God, Chang, if you let your pride deprive me of decent food again, I'll drown you in the hot tub."

He had the decency to look chastened, and sort of slump down further into his seat. "Point taken, Yuy. And my stomach agrees."

"Hn."

I stomped up the stairs in a bit of a snit, and went to bed feeling decidedly unsatisfied—both by the "meal" we'd had, and by the self-gratification I'd indulged in while imagining Duo in the shower. What made it worse was knowing I probably didn't have to masturbate with Maxwell in the house. Make that definitely. He'd given me plenty of hints—and it was pretty obvious he'd have been willing to act on the slightest encouragement from me.

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself when I curled up in bed alone and tried to shut off my meandering thoughts long enough to drop off to sleep.

* * *

I guess eventually I succeeded, because the next thing I knew it was dawn, and Wufei was tapping on my door.

"Your turn to baby sit, Yuy," he called, and I heard him trudge down the hallway to his own room.

It didn't take me long to dress, freshen up in the bathroom, and make my way downstairs. But I was startled by the sight of Maxwell up and about at that hour. He'd spent days lying abed and moping—and I had to admit, it was a relief to see him break from that routine.

He was sitting in the bay window, curled up in a blanket with his braid trailing over the side. He had his knees drawn up in front of him and a sketch pad laid across them, and it looked like he might be drawing a picture of the sunrise over the lake. He seemed so much calmer—less tense than he had the day before—that I was instantly glad I'd made the phone call to Winner.

While I might have worried that Maxwell was in such an exposed position by the big picture window, it felt so very secure up there in the mountains, and he looked so much more relaxed than he'd been before, that I hated to disturb his peace.

Instead, I mumbled a brief "good morning" and made my way to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea instead of the coffee we had so often. Something about the quiet dawn over the lake, and the tranquil scene in the living room made it seem appropriate.

Maxwell hadn't moved from his comfy seat when I returned with a cup for him as well as one for myself.

"Thanks." He took the cup without looking at me, his gaze instead resting on the distant hills.

I pulled up a chair, settling in with my own tea, and suddenly finding the silence as disturbing as Maxwell's loud music had once been. "Do you want the radio on?"

He shook his head. "Believe it or not, sometimes I don't mind a little peace and quiet, Yuy." A faint smile quirked his lips as he sipped from his cup.

I found myself almost smiling back, glad his attitude had improved so much from just one phone call. "I thought you craved noise and action."

"I feel safe there," he said quietly—pensively. "I'm at home in loud, crowded places. Doesn't mean I never considered any other kind of existence." His expression shifted just slightly. On anyone else I'd have called it melancholy. But melancholy and Duo Maxwell just didn't fit in the same sentence. "Zechs used to talk about buying a place somewhere far away—an island maybe—or a chalet on a lake—something like this place." The indigo eyes darted me a look from under thick lashes. "Y'know he wanted out."

"Out?"

"Out of the business—out from under Oz and Khushrenada—away from the politics and intrigue—from always having to watch his back and be one step ahead of his enemies." A wry smile touched his lips. "He had a lot of enemies."

"Powerful men often do."

Maxwell drew a deep, shuddering breath, leaning back against the frame of the bay window. "He was a very, very powerful man," he whispered, closing his eyes momentarily.

"You miss him."

He swallowed hard. I could see his throat move, and his jaw tighten as if to hold back a sound of pain. "I loved him," he said flatly, shrugging one shoulder and opening his eyes, keeping them fixed on some point far outside. "'Course I miss him."

While I had a momentary urge to push him—to prod at that admission and ask if he loved the man or the money—I couldn't make myself do it. His statement had been too stark to be mocked. He meant it. It wasn't about the power or the prestige of being Merquise's lover. He'd had some genuine feelings for the man.

"How did you meet him?"

That question brought his distant gaze into focus, and he took a long sip of tea, smiling into the cup. "Long story," he said quietly.

"We're stuck in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable future," I pointed out. "I have time to listen to a lot of long stories."

The indigo eyes darted me a look, somewhere between wary and predatory. "You have time, Yuy—but I imagine there's ways you'd rather spend it." He shook his head and looked away again. "Why don't you call that Darlian chick and have a little phone-sex, hm? Mister Heterosexual?"

"And why don't you drop the attitude?" I shot back. "Every time you let your guard down a little and we start to have the beginnings of a civil conversation, you have to hide behind that attitude."

"What attitude?"

"The one that makes you get hostile and suggestive any time anyone gets close."

He turned a very direct look at me then, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah—you've been close, detective. About as close as you can get—." His gaze dropped to my lap, and he licked his lips in a very deliberate attempt to fluster me. "And don't try to say you didn't like it."

"I didn't," I said evenly. "I didn't like having my gun held on me, and I didn't like losing control the way I did."

"But you liked the sex, didn't you?"

I snorted derisively. "No shit, Maxwell."

"Then what's your problem?"

"My problem is that I prefer to have sex with someone I feel something for. It's not just about getting off—it's supposed to _mean _something." I quelled the urge to sneer at him, and continued in a steady, almost conversational tone. "It means nothing to you. It's just a way to kill time or a device to manipulate someone. You use it to get what you want. So why don't you stop denying you're a whore and be honest about it?"

Something flared in his eyes at that—probably the most real emotion I'd ever seen in him. "I'm not a whore, damn it! I don't have sex for money, and I don't do it to use people!"

"Then why?" I demanded. "Why have sex with a cop who's trying to protect you, when you know it's something he doesn't want?"

"You wanted it. Whether you admit it or not, you know you did."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But I sure as hell didn't want it at gunpoint. Why'd you force the issue like that?"

"Because maybe I needed to feel something besides fear that Khushrenada's bounty hunters were hiding in every shadow!" he blurted angrily, his face flushed with emotion. "And maybe it's the only way I know to shut off my paranoia!" He drew a deep, shuddering breath, rubbing at his face with a shaking hand. "Maybe it's the only thing I've ever found real comfort or solace in. Fuck—maybe it's the only thing I've ever been good at."

I stared at him in open amazement, seeing him without the arrogant swagger or the crude front he put up like a shield. He was scared out of his mind. Just like any other victim of any other crime I'd investigated. He'd seen his lover murdered, known that someone would figure that fact out and want him dead, and had nowhere to turn for help. The police were no friends to him—and any friends he had were powerless against the likes of Khushrenada and the Oz syndicate. Merquise had probably been the only security he'd ever known.

He glared at me, still breathing hard from the vehemence of his outburst. "Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"With pity! I don't want your goddamned pity!"

"Pity?" I hadn't been aware of pitying him—only of seeing him for the first time as a true victim, instead of a co-conspirator in the whole mess. "I don't pity you, Maxwell."

"Then what's that expression for?"

"I just realized—for the first time, I guess—how much you lost when Merquise was killed."

Duo looked away to hide the flash of pain that crossed his face. "No shit, detective. I lost my job, my income, my home and friends, and my lover. Not much else they could take, is there?"

"Your life," I pointed out, albeit a bit reluctantly. He'd just confessed to being afraid of Khushrenada's reach, and I hated to bring up the subject.

"They'll get that soon enough, won't they?" he asked bitterly, finishing his tea and leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Not if we get them first," I said coldly, thinking how much pleasure I'd take in removing Khushrenada from the streets permanently. "And once we have Khushrenada put away, you'll have a fresh start—wherever you want."

He made a slightly snide sound. "Fresh start. I've had plenty of those, Yuy. Every time I got sent back to the orphanage that's what the priest and nun used to say. 'Just consider this another chance, Duo. You can start over fresh with the next family.' What a load of crap." He opened his eyes, fixing me with a pain-filled glare. "I had a fresh start with Solo and the rest of the Reapers, too…it was almost like a family for awhile. Until the Rebels finished 'em off in that warehouse while I was in lock-up."

Goddamn! The more I learned about Maxwell's past, the more painful it looked. Our first near-meeting in the squad room the day before the gang ended up obliterated had been pretty damned adversarial. But having heard about the crooked cops and their misconduct, I could better understand Maxwell's bitterness over the incident. He'd missed out on the attack—hadn't been there for his friends—and for damn sure never got any kind of closure. It's not like any of the bodies had ever been identified at all. Hell, I think some of them were probably bulldozed under with the charred remains of the warehouse.

"And then I met Trowa at the circus where he worked, and he invited me to audition for the club he performed in during the off season," Maxwell continued, as if now that he'd begun he couldn't stop the flow of words. "He taught me how to dance—said I had natural grace and rhythm. And he introduced me to Noin—got me in the door and into a job."

"So how'd you end up in Merquise's bed?" I asked, still curious as to what drew the wealthy socialite and club owner to an admittedly handsome man who stripped for a living.

Maxwell gave me an all-too perceptive look. "Still can't believe he'd stoop so low, eh?"

"You're twisting my words, Maxwell. While Merquise may have owned The Jungle, I doubt he frequented the place on a regular basis. I just wondered how you two crossed paths."

"You're right. He didn't come to the club often—and when he did, he was up in the VIP lounge—not down where he could catch the floor show."

"So—how'd you meet?"

"He audited the books."

I looked blankly at Maxwell, and he smiled patiently.

"I was a top earner at the time. Nights when Tro' and I danced the club took in twice the usual receipts." Maxwell fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes, and pulled one out, tucked the box back away, and lit it. "We went by the stage names Shinigami and Nanashi—and with the henna makeup and our costumes, they called the act The Big Cats. Tro' kind of had that whole leopard look down to an art, and I got painted up like a tiger. Damn hot—both of us," he said with a faintly proud smirk. "We did a two-man performance that had 'em jerkin' off in their seats more often than not."

I didn't doubt it for a minute. What little I'd caught of Trowa's solo act had been erotic beyond belief—and just the thought of the two of them stroking each other, dancing against each other, kissing and fondling on stage—.

_Jesus fucking Christ, I had to stop thinking like that!_

Maxwell raked me with an appraising look. "Thinking about it, aren't ya?"

"I—happened to catch your partner on stage the night Wufei and I tracked you down," I admitted, blushing at the raspy catch to my voice. "Very—artistic."

"Fuckin' hot," he grinned, glancing at my lap to see if he got the reaction he wanted.

I was sitting with my cup of tea held between my hands, more or less across my lap—so he couldn't tell that he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. But I think he knew. "So, Merquise noticed you were bringing in an audience," I said quickly, trying to keep him on topic and his mind off my crotch.

He turned his face away, still wearing that smug expression. "Yeah. He stopped by one night to talk to Noin about it—happened to see us working—and wanted to meet me."

He darted a challenging look my way. "Surprised a big-shot like him would bother with street trash?"

"Street trash that looks like you?" I countered smoothly. "I can see why he'd be curious…even interested."

Maxwell blinked, looking as if he'd been taken off guard by my admission that he was attractive.

"So what did he do?" I continued, wanting to keep the snide young man off-balance a bit longer. "Have Noin set you up?"

"No. Zechs was far more direct than that," Maxwell asserted. "I got off stage and back to my dressing room—hot, sweaty and tired—and when I walked in, he was there leaning on the wall by the door—looking like he fuckin' owned the place."

I smirked at that. "He did."

"Yeah, and if I'd known who he was at the time, I might've been aware of that fact," Maxwell admitted. "But all I saw was a really fine-looking guy with waist-length hair. I told him he was in the wrong dressing room and to shove off and take one of the ones down the hall."

I couldn't help it. I chuckled at the thought of a stripper ordering Zechs Merquise out of a dressing room in a club he owned. Not only ordering him out—but mistaking him for another stripper!

"Sure—laugh it up, Yuy," Maxwell muttered, coloring slightly. He looked almost like a kid with the faint rosy hue creeping up his cheeks and a sheepish grin on his face.

"Can't help it," I replied, subsiding. "It's just the thought of Merquise being ordered around by a—a stripper."

"We prefer the term 'exotic dancer,'" Maxwell growled at me.

I laughed all the harder at that, finding my amusement level too high to be suppressed. "Call it whatever you want," I suggested. "But I still think it's hilarious that you mistook Merquise for another dancer."

"Yeah, well—he was less than amused," Maxwell admitted. "But all things considered, he took it well. He told me I was mistaken—that he wasn't an employee of the club—at which point, I slipped a hand in the pocket of my jacket, pulled out the .38 I used to carry, and pointed it at his face."

I had to clutch my stomach by that time, wishing to God I'd been a fly on the wall for the whole ill-fated meeting. Merquise's expression must have been priceless! "Oh fuck, Maxwell! You drew on Zechs Merquise? And you're still alive?"

Maxwell looked away. "I thought you wanted the story, Yuy. If you don't want to know, I can stop right now."

"No! No—keep going," I urged, regaining control. "I just can't believe how many blunders you made meeting a man like Merquise."

"Neither could he," came the wry response. "Probably the only reason he didn't call the bouncers to come dispose of me." Maxwell shrugged a little. "Anyhow, he very politely told me there was no need for violence—he was neither an obsessed fan nor a would-be rapist. And when he said 'Allow me to introduce myself,' I told him I didn't care if he was the president of the fuckin' United States—I wanted him out of my dressing room or I'd start shooting."

I shook my head, grinning. "Do go on."

"He said he wasn't the president, merely the humble owner of a few strip clubs, and that he only came to my room to offer his thanks to the dazzling creature who was lining his pockets by drawing a crowd with the most erotic act he'd ever seen." Maxwell shook his head. "After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked if this was the part where he'd also tell me I'd just talked my way out of the best-paying job I'd ever found. He said 'no.' It was the part where he wanted to discuss an even better-paying job."

"Quite the guy," I conceded, picturing the level of nerve it took for Zechs Merquise to stare down Duo Maxwell with a gun and then offer him a better gig. The man was full of surprises—which was probably one of the reasons we'd never been able to pin any real charges on him. He was smooth, shrewd, and very, very inventive; a worthy adversary, in Wufei's words—at least for a drug dealer.

"Oh, it gets better," Maxwell told me, his tone no longer defensive or evasive. He seemed to be getting into telling the story. "I figured that was nothing more than a proposition and I told him I wasn't a whore—not for any price."

I splayed a hand over my face, torn between laughing again and groaning at Maxwell's bungling. "Un-fucking-believable! You insulted him…threatened him…and then insulted him all over again!"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Maxwell said with a small, rueful laugh. "He finally took pity on me and laid it all out plainly. He said he had no intention of asking me to be a whore, for him or anyone else. And then he asked if I'd have dinner with him." The indigo eyes closed as Maxwell leaned his head back again. "Hard t'believe, isn't it? But it's true. He waited outside while I cleaned up and changed and then took me to the best restaurant in the city—fed me a five-star meal and then asked if I'd consider dating him." He shook his head. "I told him that's what I'd just done, and he told me he wanted to make it a regular thing. Only he didn't think his jealous nature would tolerate my stripping for other men while I was supposed to be _his_—so he wondered if I'd consider a job playing bodyguard for some of the girls at the Sanc Palace."

"I see," I said with a wide smile. "So even blinded by your beauty, he noticed you were no pushover, eh?"

Duo grinned back. "Yeah. I kinda think it was the .38 that convinced him there was more there than met the eye." He looked out across the yard, and then his smile faded and he glanced aside at me from under his bangs. "Look, Yuy—about before—when I took your gun—."

I immediately hated the conciliatory tone in his voice and interrupted whatever apology he might be about to deliver. "Forget it, Maxwell. I understand you were just missing your piece." I kept my tone light—a little snide. "Maybe we can pick up a gun-shaped lighter somewhere, to satisfy your fetish."

He gawked at me, clearly puzzled by the wry humor and lack of malice in my voice. "I'm trying to apolo—."

"Shut up!" I said a bit sharply. I didn't want to hear him say he was sorry for holding a gun on me, and I especially didn't want to hear how much he regretted coercing me into sex. While I'd made it clear I didn't like the way he'd brought it about—I had also admitted it was—enjoyable. And I wasn't going to have him spoil it by explaining whatever warped logic had prompted his actions.

When I'd said I liked to care about my partners, I meant it. And while I hadn't honestly cared about Duo at the time—I was beginning to now. If he told me he'd just been trying to mess with my head, I was liable to go right back to hating him…and that was never a good attitude to have towards a protected witness.

"I was only going to apologize for the way I forced you," he said quietly, as if he'd read every thought that just raced through my mind. "I wasn't going to say I was sorry." He pushed off the seat and stood up, heaving a weary sigh. "I'm gonna catch a nap," he muttered, keeping his eyes averted. "Nothing else to do in this dive." While the words sounded like his usual sullen ramblings, there was no real feeling behind them any more. He simply sounded—defeated.

I bit back words of consolation. I was almost tempted to tell him I wasn't sorry either—because I was no longer sure I was. Granted, I could get fired for a slipup like that—for allowing him to get his hands on my gun as well as for having sex with someone who'd been placed under my protection. But I knew he'd never tell anyone about it.

What I didn't know was why he'd done it in the first place. For all his talk of killing time, it hadn't been about that. In fact, considering the timing, it had probably been his way to ground himself again after risking his life to go out clubbing. But why he'd chosen me to satisfy that need instead of the willing participant at the club, I didn't know.

_Just bad timing—you were in the right place at the right time. Or make that the wrong place! Definitely the wrong place at the wrong time. Any warm body would have served his purpose…right? _


	25. Making Amends

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: This is not THE hot tub scene…just a sort of random one. Tro' and Quat will have their moment…soon.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Five: Making Amends

I got the call from Winner in the middle of the afternoon. He hadn't wasted a moment. He and Barton were already enroute, and expected to reach us by the next evening. They'd procured a laptop, as well as several more cell phone battery packs and boosters, and planned to stop along the way for perishable groceries like milk, eggs and bread. Winner even promised to bring a surprise supper—"Duo's favorite" according to Barton—and a couple of movies to watch.

I found myself looking forward to the distraction as well as a break from being cloistered with two adversaries. I was so pleased after the call, I forgot to tell Chang. Of course, considering I was in the middle of checking out the woods around the lake house, looking for tracks, cigarette butts, or any sign at all that someone might be casing the place, it was understandable that I might relegate the news to a back burner.

Or, we could talk about the real reason I totally forgot. As I hiked from the forest down to the lake, and started up from the boat house towards the chalet, I was treated to a glimpse of Maxwell climbing into the hot tub stark naked.

Yep. He'd tossed aside a robe he apparently purloined from a closet somewhere, and stretched languidly before throwing those long, beautiful legs over the side of the tub and sliding into the steaming water.

It was probably just as well I was a good five-hundred feet away. It kept me from grabbing him and running my hands down the lean waist and onto the firm muscles of his ass to pull him into a heated kiss, before tumbling headfirst into the water with him.

I looked at the lake, wondering if the water was frigid enough to cool me down. Probably not.

"Maxwell! Decency!" I heard Wufei yell, sticking his head out the door with his hand over his eyes. "For fuck's sake! At least wear boxers!"

"Only if you join me!" came the teasing response.

"Not in this lifetime, you—you pervert!"

A loud, throaty laugh was all the answer Chang got.

Oh yeah. Maxwell was back in full force. What the hell had Barton said to him in that brief phone conversation? Whatever it was, it did the trick.

Maybe our chat that morning had helped too. I know Duo seemed to want to talk to someone about Zechs. Not that I'm the most sympathetic of listeners, but I'd certainly enjoyed the story of their first encounter.

I hiked up the hill and entered the house through the hallway by the kitchen, so I could nip in and get a bite to eat.

Chang was washing the breakfast dishes, keeping one eye on the deck for security. It had to be killing him knowing Maxwell was happily lounging in that hot tub buck naked. His poor, virgin eyes…

"What the fuck are you grinning about?" he growled at me.

"I saw that little show on the deck," I replied with vast amusement.

"And exactly what did you find humorous about it?"

"Your scandalized expression," I answered, feeling way more cheerful than I should have. But hey, the past few days had been so horribly morose that the upturn in mood seemed correspondingly extreme. "For fuck's sake, Chang. You'd think you never saw a naked guy before."

"He's got no sense of modesty at all."

"He used to dance naked on a stage," I pointed out.

"But not now. And not here. He doesn't need to be so—so—_not _self-conscious."

"What's he got to be self-conscious about?" I asked, helping myself to the leftovers of the food Maxwell had cooked for himself the night before. Damned if I was going to eat another frozen dinner. "Even you have to admit, he's a handsome man."

The look my partner darted my way was scorching. "I don't have to admit any such thing!"

"Are you incapable of telling the difference between, say, a fat slob like Mueller, and someone like Maxwell, who clearly stays in shape?"

A grimace crossed his face, as no doubt he pictured Mueller out in that hot tub. "I can tell the difference!" he said defensively. "But that doesn't mean I want to look at either of them naked!"

"Of course not," I shrugged. "But on the other hand, you don't need to be so childishly embarrassed about it. I know you've seen naked guys in the showers at work."

"I've tried not to," he grumbled back. "In case you hadn't noticed, I rarely use the public facilities to shower at work. I don't like the exposure."

I sat at the table, giving him a long, frank look. God, he really _was_ a prude. "You know, the more you react, the more he'll push."

"So, you're suggesting I not bat an eye at his shameless exhibitionism?"

"Exactly."

Chang fixed me with a glare. "Fine. Let's see you walk out there and tell him I've made soup for lunch."

I looked up quickly, realizing he'd just called my bluff.

"—without blushing," he added with a wicked smirk.

I fumbled for an out. "You haven't made soup."

He picked up a can and a can opener. "I'm about to."

"Well, when it's ready, I'll go get him," I said firmly, praying Maxwell would finish his soak, don the robe, and come inside on his own long before I had to make good on that promise.

I've never seen anyone throw together a lunch as quickly as Chang did. I kept a steady glare on him as he hastily scooped soup into a pan and put it on the stove, cranking up the heat so high I'm amazed it didn't burn instantly.

"Soup's on!" he sang out all of two minutes after my idiotic promise. He threw bowls onto the table with alarming alacrity, and looked at me expectantly.

I stood up, trying to look calm, cool, and collected. I knew I'd have to carry off the charade for Maxwell as much as for Chang. "I'll go get him," I said with quiet dignity.

I might've felt more dignified if my hand wasn't shaking when I opened the door to the deck and took a tentative step outside.

Maxwell had his head back against the edge of the tub, his braid trailing over the rim to stay dry. His arms were out to the side, draped across the tiles, and his face was turned up towards the sky, his eyes closed in bliss. Small pearls of sweat were beaded on his brow, and the wisps of chestnut bangs clung alluringly to his skin.

When I cleared my throat uneasily, keenly aware of Chang hovering at the door watching and listening intently, one indigo eye opened lazily. "Hm?"

"Uh—lunch is ready," I said, my voice a bit raspy.

Chang reached out a foot to shove me in the ass. "Go on over and tell him what I made, Yuy!" he challenged.

_Bastard._

"Sure," I said, making my face as expressionless as possible. I walked over and sat on the edge of the tub, just beyond the fingers of Duo's left hand. I had my back to the water, but that meant I could look straight down and see the lean body through the crystal clear water. "Chang made soup."

Duo looked up at me with a questioning gleam in his eyes. "What kind?"

"Jesus Christ, how should I know?" I demanded, looking to Chang for help.

"Chicken."

I wasn't sure if he was answering the question, or taunting me. So I dropped a hand into the water, directly above Maxwell, and swished it back and forth experimentally. Screw Chang, anyway. If he thought I was going to get flustered and embarrassed at seeing Duo naked, he had another thing coming.

Now, hot and bothered? Yeah. _That _I was sure to get. But not embarrassed. After all, I'd played this game before in the kitchen—not that my partner knew about it.

"Coming, Maxwell?" I asked quietly, catching his gaze and flicking my eyes aside towards Wufei to alert him to the fact that something was up.

Duo frowned slightly, and then appeared to catch on. He cleared his throat gruffly. "I _could _be," he replied in a throaty growl.

"Better hurry," I replied just as huskily. "Before it gets cold."

Maxwell smirked at me and stood up.

I let my gaze travel from his flushed face, down the wet skin of his chest to his waist and—lower. And then I glanced over at my partner so he could see I wasn't cringing with embarrassment.

"For fuck's sake!" he exploded, his cheeks crimson. "You win!" He fled back inside, and I threw my head back and laughed at his retreat.

Then I felt a warm, wet hand catch hold of my wrist. "So, you gonna tell me what that was about?"

I'd automatically flinched from the touch before I realized what I was doing. And just as quickly, Maxwell let go and stepped away, getting out of the tub and walking over to pick up his robe.

"Maxwell—."

He threw the garment on, tossing his braid over a shoulder and then tying the sash. "'S okay, Yuy. I know how you feel about—leftovers," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—."

"Would you shut up?" I said sharply. "I don't know what's worse—when you get confrontational, or when you get depressed. Isn't there any middle ground with you?"

He looked up quickly, startled.

"I was teasing Chang about being a prude, and he dared me to come out here to call you in for lunch…without being mortally embarrassed."

There was a momentary glimmer of amusement in the dark eyes. "I could've told him you weren't half the prude he is." He gave me a shy glance from under the damp chestnut bangs. "So that was just for show?"

I nodded.

He nodded in reply, heading past me towards the door.

"But if he hadn't been here—," I added, letting Maxwell draw any conclusion he wanted from the unfinished sentence.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder with a puzzled scowl. And then he turned and went inside, leaving me sitting on the edge of the tub breathing just a little too hard.

_What if Chang hadn't been there? What would I have done then?_

The possibilities whirled tantalizingly through my mind as I got up and followed Duo in.

Chang was eating his soup over the sink, apparently afraid to get any closer to Maxwell, when I walked into the kitchen.

"That's the last fucking time I dare you to do anything, Yuy," grumbled my partner, barely glancing up at me.

I sat at the table across from Maxwell, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as he ate his soup.

"Well, Chang," I said with a shrug. "You should know by now that I don't embarrass easily."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered. "I thought for sure—."

"Well, you thought wrong," I said smugly, digging into my own lunch with gusto.

Duo finished eating first, and got up to take his bowl to the sink, nearly bumping up against Wufei as he reached to put it in.

Sure enough, Chang edged to one side to keep space between them.

"Turkey," Maxwell said with a smirk.

Wufei scowled at him. "What did you call me?"

Duo's smirk widened into a grin. "Turkey," he repeated. "Not _you_. The soup. It's not chicken—it's turkey." He gave a wide-eyed look to my partner. "Or weren't you talking about the soup?"

Chang blushed crimson again, and Maxwell laughed aloud before turning and walking out of the kitchen, brushing past me in a way that made heat rush straight to my groin. I thanked my lucky stars Wufei was too busy with his own embarrassment to notice the rise of color in my cheeks.

"My turn to sleep, isn't it?" I asked, pleased with my victory.

My partner merely grunted a noncommittal reply as he kept eating his soup.

I pressed my lips together to avoid smirking as I deposited my dishes in the sink, and then I headed upstairs to catch a few hours of rest.

Of course, lying down to sleep, and actually _falling _asleep were two different things. I found my mind replaying the brief encounter on the deck. For a moment Duo and I had been on the same side—co-conspirators in Chang's embarrassment.

But after he left, when that warm, questioning hand touched my wrist—I completely fucked up. Why did I have to flinch?

It was just a knee-jerk reaction for me. I'd never been especially tactile, not even as a child. And as a cop on the force, and a gay one at that, I refrained from physical displays of affection of any kind. I didn't hug, shake hands, give slaps on the shoulder, or pats on the back to any of my co-workers. Frankly, I couldn't remember if I'd ever even touched Chang…except for the time I'd had to apply pressure to a gunshot wound to keep him from bleeding to death.

But when I recoiled from Maxwell's touch, it was obvious he took it personally. And I could hardly blame him. After I'd refused to even let him help me bandage my injured leg, he had to know I was avoiding physical contact with him.

Part of me wanted to try to explain it—to tell him I didn't mean to imply he was tainted goods, even though I'd been trying to convince myself he was. But frankly, that ship had sailed. The longer we were housed in such close proximity, the more I knew there were depths to his personality that he'd hidden from all but his closest friends. And his lovers.

I'd already seen through the brassy, crude act and glimpsed the friendly, thoughtful side he hid so well. I even knew he was capable of love and forgiveness—and that he could be hurt.

I hadn't meant to hurt him. Not this time. But my reaction had done just that. And he'd reminded me of the things I called him back in interrogation. Did he really think I still had the same opinion of him?

I hadn't exactly done anything to indicate otherwise, had I? But then, I tried. I didn't let him go inside without at least admitting that it was partly Chang's presence that held me back.

So why did he still think I considered him "leftovers?"

In just twenty-four hours, Winner and Barton would arrive, and the question of my feelings towards Duo would become a moot point. He'd have Barton, and all the comfort sex he could want. He'd no longer need to bait me or tease me or make overt sexual overtures of any kind.

_Damn it!_

* * *

Sleep finally came at some obscene hour of the morning—and I dreamed of running and being chased and getting Maxwell to the trial only to hear a single gunshot ring out, scream a belated warning, and see a bloody hole appear between the wide, expressive indigo eyes. And then I was on my knees on the floor, clinging to him while watching the light fade from those eyes, and saying I was sorry, over and over.

I shot upright, gasping. "What the fuck?"

A glance at the window showed me that it was dark out, and I guessed I'd only slept for a couple of hours. But I got up anyway, needing to see that he was all right.

I nearly bumped into Chang in the hallway.

"Yuy? What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked urgently, gun drawn and ready.

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"You yelled. Loudly."

"Oh." I ran a hand down my face. "Sorry. Must've been dreaming." I gestured him to go ahead back downstairs, and he muttered a curse under his breath, shoving the gun back into its holster and turning on his heel. I thought I heard him muttering about false alarms, and having years taken off his life as he stalked away, and I almost managed a wry smile.

When I turned around, Maxwell was leaning in the door of his room, a sheet thrown hastily around his waist. Apparently he'd heard me too.

"Must've been a hell of a nightmare," he said, running his gaze over my tousled hair and studying what must have been a very haggard face.

I just waved a hand dismissively.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I glared defensively. "No, I don't," I growled.

His lips pressed together in frustration, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I know a little about nightmares," he said quietly.

"I'm sure you do," I conceded. "But you can't help me with mine."

"Ah, that's right," he drawled snidely. "Mister Tough-Guy Yuy doesn't need anyone or anything, does he?" He turned back to his room. "Sweet dreams."

Right. His door closed except for the last six inches, and I heard the squeak of bedsprings as he threw himself across the mattress.

Giving up on sleep, I followed Wufei downstairs and went to make a pot of coffee. Since I knew I'd be wide awake the rest of the night, I sent my partner to bed, and took over monitoring security.

I was half-asleep at dawn, nodding over my fourth cup of coffee at the kitchen table, when Maxwell padded in and headed for the pot to pour himself some.

"Morning," he said without so much as a glance my way.

"So it is," I sighed, my gaze drawn to the lightening sky beyond the glass doors onto the deck.

"Is it okay if I sit out on the deck this morning?"

"Not in the hot tub?" I couldn't help teasing.

"Well, maybe once Wuffers is up and around I'll take a dip—just for the shock value. But at this hour, I was kind of thinkin' of watching the sun rise."

I noticed he had his sketch book tucked under an arm, and I gestured to it. "Gonna draw a picture of it?"

"Might finish the one I started the other day," he admitted, self-consciously tucking the pad a little tighter under his arm. "Helps pass the time."

"Like sex?" I blurted without thinking.

He turned sharply, his eyes flashing. "I told you that wasn't what it was about!"

"No—it was a distraction," I replied, stunned by the bitterness in my voice.

He slammed his cup down, turning to face me. "You won't let it be anything else!" he accused.

I blinked in surprise. "Such as—?"

"Such as—." He paused, fumbling and casting about for what he wanted to say. It was kind of refreshing watching him struggle for the right words. "—a beginning," he finally blurted.

"A beginning?" I echoed. "Maxwell, you're in witness protection. After the trial you'll be relocated. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yeah, I get the picture. I won't ever see Tro' or Quat or the kids from the orphanage again—at least not while Khushrenada's still breathing. I _get _that."

"So how can you begin _anything_?" I asked, feeling a strange ache in my chest even as I said the words.

"Yuy—there can be beginnings, middles, and endings—all in the blink of an eye," he said with amazing clarity. "Who's to say the value in a moment is how long it lasts?"

I gaped at him, wondering who the hell he really was. "What? Now you have a philosophy degree?"

"I'm just sayin', you can't live for tomorrow, Yuy. Ya gotta live for today." He cocked his head to the side, giving me a surprisingly childlike look. "Y'see what I mean?"

Strangely enough, I _did _see it. I even understood where it was coming from. "You talked about a future with Zechs," I reminded him. "Wasn't that 'living for tomorrow'?"

"Uh-uh. That was _planning _for tomorrow. Didn't mean we gave up a moment of 'today.'" He picked up his cup and sipped his coffee, looking over the rim at me.

"While I admit, you have a point," I conceded. "In my line of work, I have to always anticipate what the next moment might bring. It makes it—hard—to dwell on the here and now."

"That's just sad," he said with a shake of his head.

"It's practical," I argued. "If that attack on the cabin had happened while we were—." I couldn't quite finish the sentence, and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. "We'd be dead now, because we got lost in a moment."

"But what a moment," he shrugged, picking up his cup and leaving the kitchen with a sort of dreamy smirk on his lips.

What a moment, indeed! And for the first time since the incident, I let my mind drift back to it without fighting not to. I let myself remember every touch and every feeling, realizing it had, indeed, been worth whatever consequences came after.

But would it have been worth it if Maxwell ended up dead as a result? That, I just couldn't accept. What was it he'd said about spending his last moments on Earth having wild sex in a hot tub? While that'd be a heck of a way to go, it wasn't necessarily a good idea to "go" at all.

I wanted him to live. And suddenly my dream made sense. It wasn't about the case as much as it was about keeping Maxwell alive and giving him the chance to go on living. Whether Khushrenada was convicted or not, Duo Maxwell deserved to live.

Oh shit. He _wasn't_ just a job any more, was he?

But what _was_ he then?

* * *

I kept myself busy enough to not dwell on that question for most of the morning. While Maxwell lounged on the deck, I did laundry, checked the security system, made a grocery list for after Winner and Barton's arrival, and then walked every square inch of the yard and approaches to the lake house.

When I got back inside, Duo had moved to the couch and was watching some sort of documentary on how they make aluminum foil.

"Jesus Christ," I sighed. "Fifty channels and that's all you can find?"

He glanced up with a smirk. "Actually, I was watching the segment before—about how they invented TNT—an' I got distracted and forgot to change the channel." He held up his pad of paper to indicate he'd been busy drawing. "I think the next episode is on making bombs out of fertilizer."

Wufei sauntered out of the kitchen, nibbling on a protein bar. "You should screen what he watches, Yuy. Next thing you know he'll be cooking up more than spaghetti in the kitchen."

Maxwell tensed up as he usually did when Chang was around. "You won't _let _me," he accused. "One little fuck-up and you won't even trust me to cook a meal for you any more."

"It was a fairly large 'fuck-up,'" Wufei pointed out. "One that cost Winner a vacation home and nearly cost us our lives."

"I said I was sorry," growled Maxwell. "So just give it a rest already!" With an irritated huff, he flipped his sketch book open and went back over to the bay window, settling on the cushions and looking outside, effectively shutting us out.

"You—sketch?" Wufei said with a puzzled frown, following him over to the seat and looking down at the dog-eared sketch pad.

Duo self-consciously put his hands over the page, glaring up at my partner. "What if I do?" he demanded. "Y'think just 'cause I was a stripper I can't have any hobbies?"

Wufei scowled back. "Of course you can. I just thought they'd include straight lining heroin or molesting little boys." As usual, when he got defensive, Chang resorted to sarcasm and insults.

Duo was on his feet in a flash, the pad falling to the floor as he launched himself at Wufei. I think it was the first time I'd seen my partner so surprised that his reflexes didn't save him. He ended up on the floor with a furious, cussing, spitting wildcat on top of him, raining blows on whatever he could reach.

Knowing that Wufei had several black belts in various martial arts, I decided to intervene before he gathered his wits and struck back. So I caught Maxwell by the back of his collar, literally dragging him off Chang.

"Easy there, tiger!" I chided, hauling him back to the couch and dumping him unceremoniously on it, putting myself between him and his target. "Chang was just trying to bait you! He doesn't like when people surprise him."

Chest heaving and face flushed with anger, Duo glared up at me, fists clenched at his sides. "I want him gone!" he snarled. "Tell your fuckin' boss I won't testify unless they get someone else to baby sit me. I don't _want_ him here!"

"He's my partner," I retorted, aware that behind me Chang had picked himself up from the floor and dusted himself off. "He has to be here. Believe me, he doesn't want it any more than you do."

"Fuck 'not wanting' it! I won't have him here!" Duo snapped. "Nobody fuckin' calls me a child molester!"

"He was joking—."

"It's not a joke!" Duo exploded. He stood up, his face inches from mine—I could feel the heat of his breath as he panted with emotion. But his eyes weren't angry. We were so close I could see deep into the indigo depths. He was—hurt.

"Oh God," I said in a hushed whisper, feeling a stab of pity. "You were molested, weren't you?"

His eyes flickered and then went cold. "What's it to you?" he muttered, shoving me aside and stalking past both Wufei and me and storming up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door so hard it shook the wall, sending a picture crashing to the ground.

I looked at Wufei—the stricken look on his suddenly-pale face. "I-I didn't know—," he whispered in horror. "How could I have known?"

I just shook my head. "You've got a fucking big mouth, Chang. For Christ's sake, he's a street kid. _Nothing _that's happened in his past should surprise you." I didn't bother to tell him it had surprised me, too.

I slowly bent and picked up the sketch book, looking down at the half-finished drawing of the view out the window of the safe house. Despite being an amateur picture, it had some intriguing details—Duo had noticed the spider web on the outside corner of the big window and included that wispy image in his drawing. He'd also lined in the hanging basket on the porch, complete with the dry, straggling remains of whatever flower had once filled it. I thought it a rather bleak view until I noticed that in firm, dark strokes there was a rendition of the bird nest protruding from the basket—and even the whimsical touch of a small head and beak gaping from the twigs.

I walked over and looked out the window, and sure enough, there _was_ a nest there, and if you squinted and watched, you could barely glimpse an occasional movement and a tiny beak reach up inquisitively. As I watched, an adult bird flitted in with a fat insect clamped in its bill, and stuffed it into the first beak it saw. It was gone so fast I barely registered its presence. And yet the crass, rude street kid had probably been watching it for hours.

"He has an eye for detail," Wufei said over my shoulder.

"He'll make a good witness if he can describe Khushrenada in that much detail," I agreed.

My partner raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I'm just—admiring your single-mindedness," he said with a suggestion of a smirk.

I scowled. "Isn't the point of our being out here to ensure a conviction?"

"Of course." Wufei reached over and turned the page, sucking in a quick breath at the rather whimsical rendition of a sunrise over the mountains and lake. "Lovely…"

The next turn of a page revealed a sketch of a sleeping man, easily recognizable as Zechs Merquise.

His long hair was spread across the pillow, and his nude body was sprawled across the mattress, the sheets tangled around his hips. But his muscular legs and sculpted chest were outlined in great detail, the pencil having gone over the lines repeatedly, as if caressing what it was drawing. I got the impression of satiation and relaxed exhaustion—as if they'd just had sex, and when Merquise drifted off to sleep, Duo got the urge to draw him.

I looked at Wufei, expecting a scandalized expression; but he looked grudgingly impressed. "I—had no idea he loved the man that much," he admitted quietly.

"You got that from a pencil drawing?" I demanded.

"Look at the pose—the things he emphasized—the detail in the face and the hair."

I'd forgotten Chang had taken an art appreciation course at a local college and now considered himself something of an expert in the deep meanings behind art. "You don't find it offensive?" I nudged.

"Not in this context," came the careful reply. He turned the page to reveal a picture of Barton, done up in the henna dye in all his glory. Although he had his back to the artist, and was looking over his shoulder, not much was left to the imagination. "Now _that _I find offensive," Chang muttered.

I grinned. There was absolutely nothing offensive about the curves of Barton's ass, and the intricate detail of the painted leopard markings. In fact, it was quite exotic and lovely. I could see why Duo and Trowa had been friends "with benefits."

There were more pictures…Barton balancing on a high-wire, and one of him stroking a sleepy-looking leopard…Hilde pushing a little boy on a swing set…several children I guessed were from the orphanage Duo frequented…

And then I turned a page and saw a picture of myself looking back at me. It was enough to take my breath away for a moment. Why had he drawn me? What in God's name possessed him?

"Yuy—," breathed my partner quietly. "That's an amazing likeness."

I tried, belatedly, to close the pad, but Wufei tugged it out of my hands, studying the detailed drawing.

The eyes were what I'd noticed first. Did I really have that intense of an expression? There was a heat in the carefully-drawn eyes—a compelling depth—that I was sure I didn't really possess. It wasn't what I saw when I looked in the mirror, and yet I knew it was more accurate than any simple reflection.

Chang looked at me with a frown. "He's—. If I didn't know better, Yuy, I'd say he's got some sort of feelings for you—."

I yanked the pad from Wufei's hands. "He's bored, Chang. That's all. I'm sure he meant to capture my scowl more than anything." I hastily turned the page and stopped again, my jaw dropping. The next sketch was of Wufei…just a profile…that captured the arrogant tilt to the chin, and the dark intensity of his eyes. And yet, it made him look…breathtaking.

"What the fuck?" blurted my partner. "What? Why?"

I closed the pad before we could look any further, hoping Maxwell hadn't tried to capture our moment on the safe house floor. "We shouldn't, Wufei," I said quickly. "These are his private drawings. It's not our place to pry."

"Why me?" he asked in complete confusion. "What could he possibly see in me that he'd want to capture on paper?"

"You're dedicated to your job," I said carefully. "Driven. I think that's what shows in that portrait…your single-mindedness of purpose, and your devotion to duty. I suspect that's what he sees when he looks at you."

"But why would he even look?"

"It's what he does, obviously," I said with a shrug, trying not to imagine I'd seen passion in the drawing of my own eyes. "And he's got a lot of time on his hands."

Chang shook his head. "I've been a complete prick to him, and yet he made the picture look—noble."

"Well—you are," I conceded. "At least, when you aren't being an ass; when you don't let your past overshadow the present and influence how you treat a protected witness."

He gave a wry snort. "Why don't you just come out and say what's on your mind, Yuy?"

"I think you need to realize Maxwell is not the guy who stole Meilan from you. And in spite of his past gang affiliation, he's not a gang-banger any more. As for being gay—well, that's a bit beyond his control, isn't it?"

"And here I always took you for a man of action," Chang said snidely. "I never figured you for the lecturing type."

"I learned from the best."

"Oh ouch."

"Here's the deal, Chang. Winner's on his way here with a new laptop, cell batteries and groceries for us. I think you need to patch things up with Maxwell before he gets here, or he might carry out that threat to refuse to testify if you aren't pulled from the case."

"Winner's coming?"

"Winner and Barton."

"Barton? What the hell is he coming here for?"

"He's driving Winner." I couldn't resist a slight smirk. "I think maybe they're dating."

When Chang's jaw dropped yet again, I decided maybe he'd had enough shocks for one day.

"Look. I'll talk to Maxwell if you'd like—."

"No." He turned away, shaking his head. "No, Yuy. I'm the one who ran my mouth without thinking. I said something stupid and thoughtless, and it's up to me to make it right." He headed for the stairs, apparently wanting to get things over with immediately.

While I agreed with him in principle, I wasn't sure it would go over so well in practice. "He may deck you," I cautioned.

"It would be nothing less that I deserved," shrugged my partner, his sense of justice coming into play. He paused at the first step and turned haunted eyes my way. "When do you suppose he was—molested?"

I shrugged. "He was in and out of foster care all his life. It could have been one of his caretakers, or it could have been after he ran away from the orphanage. Who the hell knows?"

"And I called him a—." Wufei shook his head. "You're right, Yuy. I'm an ass."

I grinned, glad to see he was appropriately repentant. "Yeah, but this time you didn't mean to be."

He darted me a sharp look.

I gestured to the stairs. "Go on. Get the groveling over with and maybe we won't be sending you back with Winner when he leaves."

Looking rather like he was on his way to his own execution, Chang climbed the stairs. And I was unable to resist following, at least as far as the top step. I let him make the long walk down that hallway on his own.

Watching Wufei tap lightly on Maxwell's door, I vaguely wondered if there was a chance in Hell he'd be admitted. My question was answered when he opened the door, and I edged closer, hoping to catch a bit of the conversation.

"…d'you want?" came Maxwell's slightly hoarse voice. Had he been _crying_? I found the thought both ludicrous and disturbing.

"I owe you an apology," Wufei said firmly.

"Y'don't owe me shit, cop. You're just here to keep me breathing until I'm no longer useful to your department."

The dripping contempt in Maxwell's voice struck me. He really felt that he was nothing more than a pawn in a bigger game. Did he honestly think when it was over he'd just be hung out to dry?

"Regardless of why I'm here," Wufei said smoothly. "My comments were inexcusable. I spoke in ignorance and anger."

There was a wry snort. I could almost picture the way Maxwell must have rolled his eyes.

"I asked about your sketches out of genuine interest," my partner continued. One thing you had to admire about Chang was his dogged persistence. "It is a symptom of my ignorance that I was surprised that someone I'd considered a criminal could produce such lovely art work. For that I apologize as well."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then… "Are you done?"

"Almost. You don't have to accept my apology, Maxwell. But I'm sincere in it. I misjudged you, and I insulted you—and I think I hurt you. I'm deeply sorry for all three, and I hope that we can have a less—adversarial—relationship from now on."

I shook my head, grinning, waiting for Maxwell to offer Chang a quick fuck or make some smart-assed remark. Instead there was silence, and then I heard footsteps as Wufei started to leave.

"Chang?" Duo's voice spoke up again.

"Yes?"

"I—no hard feelin's. I guess maybe I've been called worse before."

My jaw dropped. Was Maxwell actually _accepting_ Chang's apology?

"If you have," came my partner's smooth baritone. "It was unjust. You are a better person than you want the world to believe."

At that point you could have knocked me over with a feather. Where the heck had Chang pulled that shit from? I knew he didn't think Maxwell was a better person than he pretended to be. But it wasn't like Chang to offer insincere flattery, either.

So what did that mean? Was he actually changing his attitude towards Maxwell? Just from a fumbled conversation and a few sketches?

Although, I had to admit, seeing yourself drawn that way had a definite emotional impact. It made me wonder what Duo saw when he looked at me. I knew what it _looked _like—but what was he thinking?

I turned and walked slowly back down the stairs, and into the kitchen, after placing Duo's sketch pad on the window seat where he'd more or less left it. As I'd said to Chang, it wasn't our place to keep looking through the private, intimate drawings.

And yet, I couldn't help wondering. When I put the picture of me together with some of the things Maxwell had said that morning, about beginnings, I almost believed the sex had been more than just a distraction for him.

God, why was I unable to let it go? Why couldn't I accept that it had been a whim on his part, and that now he was just playing me—trying to get more? Why did he seem so goddamned sincere?

Even if he was, there was nowhere for me to take this. I was a cop and I'd fucked up royally by having sex with a witness. Feelings aside, I couldn't let myself do that again. I was on the fucking clock twenty-four seven, until Khushrenada's trial. And after that, Maxwell would be whisked away into the relocation program, and I'd never see him again.

Sure, it was easy to flirt and tease—God, Maxwell made it unavoidable. But it couldn't go any further. Not again.

I couldn't let him know I felt more than a passing lust for him. And yes, by this time I had to admit, I did feel something more.

He hadn't claimed he did. While he'd said there was more to the sex than killing time or seeking a distraction, he'd never expressed or claimed to have—feelings for me. Maybe I was just reading more into the pensive glances and the subtle gestures he made than was really there.

If I'd been the kind of man given to casual sex and one-night stands, it would have been easier to shake off the desire to attach feelings to what had happened—what was happening between Maxwell and me. But I wasn't that kind of guy.

Maxwell was. And maybe that's what I needed to focus on. If I could keep the idea firmly in my mind that he was just out for a good time, maybe the temptation would fade. Maybe I'd stop wanting something I couldn't have.

And maybe Hell would freeze over.

Wufei came into the kitchen a moment later, and went into the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. "I'm going to take a quick walk around the perimeter," he said curtly.

"I just got back from that."

"Yes, but I need—solitude."

Ah. He needed to get his head around the fact that he'd just had to grovel for and beg forgiveness from a criminal.

"Enjoy it then," I said simply.


	26. Comfort

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: A slightly shorter chapter, but honestly, it has to end where it does. And many thanks to Kaeru Shisho for the invaluable advice on several key points!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Six: Comfort

As Wufei headed out the door for his moment of solitude, I began rummaging through cupboards to do a quick inventory of our food in case I missed anything on the grocery list I'd made.

The patter of feet on the stairs had me moving to the doorway of the kitchen in time to see Maxwell skip lightly down the steps, and walk over to retrieve his sketch pad.

He waved it in my direction, looking a bit embarrassed; he had to know we'd looked through some of it. "Can't help drawing the hot guys," he quipped, his haggard face not quite matching his cheery tone as he started up the stairs, clutching the book to his chest.

"Maxwell—."

He paused, stiffening. "Let it go, Yuy," he said coldly. "Your partner already apologized for stepping in my shit with both feet. I don't want to hear it from you. Case closed."

Of course. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of a trauma like that, even if it was on the tip of my tongue to offer to listen if he felt like talking. But the chill in his voice reminded me too much of what he'd been like at the start of our trip, and I didn't like it. "So Mister Tough-Guy Maxwell doesn't need anyone or anything, does he?" I chided, using the same tone he'd hit me with the previous night.

I got a sharp, startled look, and the arms he had around his drawing pad tightened fractionally. "You offering something?"

"Just—to listen."

"So you know a little about it, eh?"

"I used to work vice. Yeah, I know a little about it."

"Thanks anyway, Yuy. Nothing personal—but I don't talk to cops."

My anger flared at the way he used the word "cops" like an insult. "Dammit, Maxwell, just once could you forget I'm a cop?" I snapped.

"You first!" he challenged, glaring back.

"I did," I countered, meeting him glare for glare. "And look what happened!"

"You were drunk."

_As if that made my breach of regulations acceptable_… "I was sober enough."

"And I had your gun."

_Yet another screw-up on my part. Way to remind me how badly I'd blundered, Maxwell!_

"At first," I reminded him.

He hesitated, frowning slightly. Oh, had he forgotten I got my gun away from him right before I stripped him and fucked him? "You weren't exactly in your right mind," he finally concluded. "Just—stop trying to deny what you are. You're a cop, through and through, Yuy. And like I said, I don't talk to cops."

"You just fuck them, is that it?"

The indigo eyes narrowed. "It seems to be what most of them want."

_Oh shit—was it a cop who'd molested him?_ "Maxwell—."

He shook his head. "Let it go."

"Fine," I conceded, deciding to let him win one round.

I thought he looked a bit relieved as he nodded. "Well—I'm gonna take a nice long shower, I guess," he told me. "Got all sweaty sitting out on the deck in the sun—and right now I don't think Wuffers could handle seeing me in the hot tub."

I glanced at the clock. "Don't take all night, Maxwell. Chang and I will be starting supper soon."

He looked over his shoulder at me, frowning in apparent confusion. "Since when did you and Chang care whether I eat with you or not?" he asked, the snide edge dulled by weariness. "Y'think I never ate cold leftovers before?"

"Du—Maxwell…why don't you just drop the attitude?" I suggested, not unkindly. "I—we want you to eat with us because there's a surprise for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

"Yes." I surreptitiously crossed my fingers, hoping Winner and Barton got here in time for supper. "A good one."

For a moment the indigo eyes slid down to my crotch, and Maxwell very nearly smirked. But then he shook his head, sighing and closing his eyes. "Yuy—the only good news you could give me would be that Khushrenada confessed, called off his hit men, and then shot himself out of remorse." He opened his eyes to fix a cool look on me. "I'm assuming that hasn't happened."

He looked so—forlorn—that for a moment, I wanted to climb those five stairs between us and wrap him in a hug. Of course, thinking of hugging him brought back memories of how he felt pressed up against me—and the flicker of guilt and anger helped quell any sympathetic urges. "I—wish it had," I shrugged, turning and heading for the kitchen before my emotions overcame my common sense.

Maxwell didn't need coddling. He didn't need hugs and empty words of encouragement. He especially didn't need those things from me, which was why I had Winner bringing his friend along. Barton could do the comforting, while I tried to regain my professional detachment.

At least I was honest enough with myself to use the word "tried." My body had already betrayed me on more than one occasion, and my emotions were close behind. While my rational mind assured me there was nothing between Maxwell and myself, I couldn't help feeling drawn to him.

And I hated it. I hated wanting something I knew I couldn't have.

* * *

Wufei took his sweet time "gathering his thoughts," and as he was walking in, long after I'd finished the food inventory, my cell phone rang.

"Yuy."

"Winner here."

His voice was barely audible over the roar of an engine, and I started to smile, picturing him on the back of the motorcycle Maxwell had given Barton. "Are you close?"

"Five minutes away! Put the oven on low so we can throw the pizzas in there to stay warm when we arrive."

"Pizza?" I sighed. "Maxwell's favorite?"

"You know it! Ciao!"

He left me staring at the phone as he hung up. "Ciao?"

Chang snorted as he walked over to the refrigerator. "That's yuppy-speak for 'see you later,' Yuy."

"I know what it means. I've just never heard Winner say anything like that before."

I put down the cell phone and went to turn the oven to "warm."

I'd know Quatre Winner for at least three or four years. He'd been a young hotshot fresh out of law school when he took the job of public defender. Brash and idealistic, he'd struck those of us in the department as a flash in the pan; someone who'd quickly tire of fighting the system and move on to more lucrative ventures in a private legal practice.

He proved us all wrong by not only excelling at his job, but seeming to love it. He had a sharp mind, knew the law inside and out, and was a terror in the courtroom. I'd seen him outmaneuver sly old prosecutors—beating them at their own game, and quickly making enemies out of most of them.

And he did it with the utmost class, a sweet smile on that angelic face, and a shrewd gleam in the baby blue eyes.

Who'd have thought a sweet kid like him would not only survive, but dominate the legal profession?

More to the point, who'd have ever thought he'd end up hip-deep in the Khushrenada case, helping us keep our star witness safe; let alone riding for two days on a motorcycle with said witness' ex-lover, who also happened to be a stripper?

Clearly, he was a multi-faceted individual, and I made a mental note to never underestimate Quatre Winner again. A man who could go from courtroom shark to biker babe in the blink of an eye warranted extra respect in my book.

"Where's Maxwell?"

"In the shower." I cocked my head and could hear the faint music from the upstairs bathroom over the sound of running water. "Sounds like he left the door open," I told Chang, giving a vicious little smirk. "Do you want to go get him when they arrive?"

"Fuck you," growled my partner. But his curse lacked venom, and I could tell he was still in a rather subdued mood.

"Seriously, Chang," I said, sobering. "Did you manage to clear your head a bit?" I eyed his clothes, which were slightly rumpled and dirty, and guessed that he'd done some kind of workout or kata to help him relax and get centered.

"Yes. I dealt with my wounded pride," he admitted. "And I'll be more careful of what I say around Maxwell from now on, so I don't ever have to eat crow like that again."

"But we aren't having crow; we're having pizza," I quipped, giving him my best rendition of Duo's cocked head and teasing smirk.

He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Gods, Yuy, he's contagious!"

"Only his warped sense of humor," I pointed out, feeling the tension ease out of me.

Winner and Barton were probably pulling into the driveway as we spoke, and a sense of ultimate relief was warring with a tiny twinge of envy. On the one hand, we'd have reinforcements—and on the other, I'd probably have to listen to Maxwell's headboard banging on the wall between our rooms for the next several nights.

Okay—the tension was back right on the heels of that thought. I busied myself with laying out plates and napkins, while Wufei went up to his room to change clothes.

The beep of the alarm being deactivated alerted me that Winner was there, and then in the next moment he and Barton came stumbling into the kitchen from the garage, laughing hilariously over some shared joke and carrying several pizza boxes stacked in Barton's arms.

"Oven, Yuy!"

"Right here." I opened the door just in time, and Winner steered Barton over to stuff all five boxes into the roomy oven.

The blonde then pulled off the motorcycle helmet he was still wearing and gave me a wide smile, looking windblown and unreasonably happy. "Good to see you," he greeted me pleasantly, holding out a hand.

I shook it, smiling back. "Better to see you," I assured him. "Are you sure you weren't followed?"

Barton straightened and closed the oven door, then pulled off his own helmet, shaking out the mane of auburn hair. "We weren't followed," he assured me, green eyes intent. "We took back roads, gravel roads, and dirt bike trails." He rubbed his rear end rather gingerly. "Hard riding," he grumbled. "But it's for damn sure no one could have kept up without our knowing it."

"Good."

The green eyes went past me towards the living room, where the television was still on the "how they make it" channel. "Where's Duo?" he asked eagerly.

"In the shower. I'll get him in a minute."

"Just tell me where, and I can—."

"I'll do it!" I softened my too-hasty response by nodding towards the garage. "First we should bring in the rest of your things."

I helped our two guests hang up their riding gear, and we made a trip out to the garage to bring in the saddlebags full of supplies. It was amazing how much they'd managed to pack on the luggage rack and in the bags.

And when I pulled that shiny new laptop out, I wanted to kiss Winner. "Quatre Winner—you are—." I shook my head, lost for words. "This is even better than the one I had."

"I know," he said with a wink and a grin. "Only the best for Duo's protector."

I gave him a sharp look at that. "You make it sound so medieval. I'm just a cop on a protective detail."

The blonde shrugged, walking over and sitting at the table, and then just as quickly standing up. "Ah! You're right, Trowa! That bike seat was downright hard!" He rubbed his butt theatrically.

Barton gave a short laugh. "Sorry. It's not a touring bike—doesn't have the cushy seats and fancy sound system a Goldwing would have."

"But it got us here, and that's what counts," Quatre assured him, with a smile I thought was a bit soft and wistful.

Ah, the blonde lawyer had it bad.

"I'd like to set up the surveillance right after supper," I said, laying the laptop on the counter and plugging it in to get things started. "I still have my software intact, and should be able to get it loaded and ready in no time."

"Sounds good," Winner agreed. "But I'm famished! Do you think Duo's almost done?"

"I'll get him," I offered again. "If you and Barton could put away the perishables?" _Oh God was that fresh milk? _My mouth watered at the thought of fruit, vegetables, and bread…items we'd been sorely lacking at the lake house.

"Is there room in the fridge for the beer?" Barton piped up, pulling a couple of six-packs out of one bag.

Six-packs of imported, dark beer…Duo's favorite, no doubt.

I quelled a twinge of resentment. Of course Barton knew everything that Maxwell loved—they'd only been friends and fuck-buddies for _how_ long?

I walked quickly from the kitchen and climbed the stairs, eager to get the reunion over with so I could resume my official duties; without distractions, this time.

The bathroom door was ajar, and the music blasting down the hall just loudly enough to make me want to plug my ears. But I stalked closer, putting a hand out to push the door open, only to pause at the sight before me.

Duo was shirtless, his long hair unbound as he ran a brush through the nearly-dry strands. His back was to the door, but I could see his reflection in the mirror; his eyes were closed, and he was quietly singing along with the music, swaying his hips in time to the beat. From time to time, he'd take a little shuffle-step with his feet as if practicing a dance routine; and then he'd rock his head from side to side, swinging that mane of chestnut silk around him like a veil. He was in a world all his own, and the sight just took my breath away.

And then the indigo eyes opened, and he caught a glimpse of me in the mirror and paused his private show, fixing a questioning look on my face. I don't know what I expected—if I thought that he'd be self-conscious or blush at being caught in such an unguarded moment. But he wasn't and he didn't. He only smirked suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

Before I could pull myself together, clear my throat, and speak up, I saw another reflection in the mirror as Barton reached the top step of the stairs and headed our way.

Duo saw him as well, and spun with a cry of sheer delight, dropping the brush and dashing past me to literally throw himself into Barton's arms.

Fuck. Why did the sight of him with those leopard-spotted arms wound around his back make my stomach knot? I knew goddamned well that he and his dance partner had been lovers. I guess I just thought that had all ended with Merquise's arrival.

But then, hadn't I been counting on them picking up where they left off?

Duo had his face buried in Barton's shoulder, and the other man was running a hand up and down the long, silky hair and Duo's back in a soothing gesture. A fucking caress.

Feeling an unreasoning upwelling of jealousy, I stalked past them and went back down the stairs, giving them privacy for whatever reunion they wanted. I kept telling myself it didn't matter. There was nothing between Duo and me. Beyond a physical attraction and the resultant sexual tension—we had nothing. No relationship…not even what could rightly be called affection.

So why did it hurt so much that he'd been so openly joyful at Barton's arrival? Was it because I'd never once seen a look like that from him? He looked like a kid at Christmas getting the one thing he wanted the most—young and unrestrainedly happy—without the hard edge and brass.

Quatre was waiting in the living room, and looked up as I entered. "Trowa was impatient," he said with a slight shrug. "He talked of nothing but Duo on the way up here—when he talked at all, that is." He gave a small, wry smile.

Wufei came pattering down the stairs, his expression dark. "Yuy! Care to explain why that painted freak and Maxwell are up in the hallway making out?"

I put a splayed hand over my face. "They missed each other?" I ventured with more humor than I felt.

"We weren't making out," came Duo's voice from just behind Wufei. He and Barton were a few steps behind my partner, walking side by side, each with an arm around the other's waist. "It was just one kiss."

"One hell of a kiss," Barton smirked, green eyes shining. He pulled free, slapping Duo playfully on the ass and then walking over to Quatre, stopping just close enough to make me wonder about the burgeoning relationship between those two. If they were a couple, how the hell could Quatre not resent Duo's place in Barton's affections?

I looked up in time to receive a calculating look from indigo eyes. I stared back, unable to keep my gaze from traveling down the sleek flow of Duo's loose hair, and wondering how it would feel to touch it. My jaw nearly dropped when Duo blushed, and turned aside, pulling his hair over one shoulder and beginning to weave it into its customary braid. "So that was your surprise, Yuy? Letting me have visitors?"

"I didn't _let _you have visitors," I said curtly. "Your _lawyer_ requested a chance to talk to you in person, and suggested bringing along some needed supplies and a familiar face to cheer you up."

Finishing his work and pulling a hair tie out of a too-tight pocket to fasten his hair, the braided man turned, putting his hands on his hips. "I wasn't _cheerful_ enough?" he demanded.

I just shrugged. Perhaps my choice of words was a little off. "You've been a bit—moody?"

"You've been a pain in the ass," Wufei clarified, never one to mince words. (Just people.)

Duo turned a look on me that could have been teasing, angry, or sarcastic—or all three rolled into one. "I'd say you're the 'pain in the ass' here," he said with a hint of a sultry challenge in his voice.

God, I hoped I wasn't blushing. I half expected him to add "—literally" to what he'd said, and leave me trying to explain why.

Quatre came to my rescue. "Yuy's not the one who made a phone call that tipped Khushrenada's people off to your location and got my hunting lodge shot to Hell."

Duo's gaze dropped to the floor, and I could almost feel the temperature in the room fall. "I'm sorry, Quat," he murmured in an undertone. "I never thought she'd—. I thought she was a friend." He glanced fleetingly at me, and I recalled our conversation about how he'd needed someone to talk to besides Chang and me.

"You can't afford to _think_ someone's a friend anymore, Duo. You have to _know_," Winner scolded gently.

Duo gave a wry snort. "How can I know, Quat? I mean, I'm sure of Trowa—but besides him—?"

"You can be sure of me," Quatre said firmly.

"You're my lawyer—not a—." Duo stopped short, fixing a troubled look on his public defender. "What about what you said—keeping things professional, hm?"

The blonde shrugged. "That's hard to do where you're concerned, Duo." An impish grin touched his lips. "Sue me."

Duo finally chuckled, some of the tension easing from the lean shoulders. He rubbed a hand restlessly over his tattoo. And then Barton stepped up to him, catching him by both arms, and making him look up. "Doesn't matter that you made one silly mistake, Shini. It'll be okay from now on," he said in a soothing voice that sent little shivers up my spine. I could only imagine its effect on Duo, as he more or less melted into a reassuring embrace.

"Thanks," he breathed softly.

Winner and Barton exchanged a look over the chestnut head, and the lawyer gave a small, warm smile. "Hey—you know we brought pizza, right?"

The braided head shot up, and Duo's face once again lit with the smile I'd started to miss. "Seriously? Pizza?"

"With extra pepperoni," Barton added, loosening his grip and sliding a hand down to catch Duo's wrist. "C'mon to the kitchen."

Winner stayed behind with Chang and me until the others were out of earshot. "He seems to be holding up okay," the lawyer commented frankly.

"He has his ups and downs," I shrugged in response.

"Understandable, considering the pressure he's under," Quatre suggested.

"You mean considering how many people want him dead?" Wufei asked snidely. "I'd think that would make him more cooperative rather than less."

Winner glared at my partner, those aquamarine eyes glittering. "He might be more cooperative if you didn't bait him."

Wufei shot me a suspicious look. "What did you tell Winner?"

"He didn't have to," Winner cut in, saving me from explaining that I'd told Captain Po, and therefore _him_, pretty much everything about the friction between Duo and Wufei, except for the latest spats. I'd conveniently left out mention of my own—issues—with the braided man. "I know enough about you, Chang, to surmise that your superior attitude hasn't set well with my client." Oh, Captain Po had been talking out of school, hadn't she?

"It shouldn't offend him when someone calls him exactly what he is," sniffed Wufei, backsliding into his defensive mode at once.

"And that is—?" came the loaded question.

_Shut up, 'Fei…shut up, shut up, shut up!_

"Street trash," came the cool reply, bringing to mind the comments that made Maxwell take off the first time, at that rest stop near the highway.

"Really?" crooned Winner dangerously. I marveled that Chang didn't seem to realize how much shit he was about to step into. And so soon after he'd just dug his way out of it with Maxwell.

"Well just _look _at him…a stripper…a _gay _stripper…who grew up on the streets, ran with a gang, slept with a fucking crime lord, and has been arrested at least a dozen times on breaking and entering, possession of stolen goods…shall I go on?"

"Please do."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up._

But Chang was on a roll and in full rant mode. And while he'd more or less made peace with Maxwell, he clearly hadn't changed many of his opinions of the braided man, especially after seeing him necking with Barton up in the hallway. It seemed that while he'd watch his tongue in front of Maxwell, he didn't mind turning it loose on a lawyer.

"He's obviously got few, if any redeeming qualities—and witness protection or not, I fully expect him to return to the streets when this is over," continued my oblivious partner. "He's worthless, Winner. Right now the only value he has is as a witness against Khushrenada. After the trial's finished, he'll probably stoop to whoring next. God knows he's been making blatant sexual moves on Yuy this whole trip…"

"Shut up!"

_Oh, fuck…I said that out loud._

Two sets of eyes turned my way—one surprised, and one a bit speculative. I focused on glaring at Chang. "You're not being fair to him," I said flatly, keeping my tone neutral, even if my words weren't. "He can't help what he's been, Chang. That's a done deal. But maybe he'll see that in witness protection, he'll have a chance to start over and do better."

Onyx eyes blinked slowly, and my partner's jaw went a little slack. "Since when did _you _become a raving optimist?"

"I guess the same time you turned into a fucking liar!" I snarled back. "You told him he was a better person than he pretended to be! I thought that meant you saw the potential in him. Or were you just bullshitting him so he'd forget you called him a fucking child molester?"

A guilty flush crept up my partner's cheeks, and he glanced at Winner, whose eyes were like chips of ice. "I made a bad joke, Winner. I didn't actually accuse him of such a thing!" he blurted hastily. "I had no idea anything like that had happened to him…"

"Jesus Chang, just shut up!" I snapped.

Winner's face had paled a little in sudden realization. "When—?" he asked in horror.

"Years ago," I said hastily, wanting to close the door on the touchy subject. "And he won't thank us for talking about it behind his back!"

The door to the kitchen slammed open, and Duo came out balancing a plate loaded with pizza slices and a beer. "'S gettin' cold, fellas," he said pertly, striding past us and heading for the television. "Tro' brought movies. Who's up for a good action flick?"

With a muttered curse, Chang headed for the kitchen.

Winner paused to fix a calculating look on me. "He grows on you, doesn't he?"

"Who—Chang?"

The lawyer shook his head pityingly at my lame attempt to avoid the question. "Duo."

"Oh." My gaze was drawn to the retreating back and the swinging braid. "I guess."

The lawyer chuckled, putting a companionable arm around my shoulders and steering me towards the kitchen. "Let's get some pizza before Duo finishes and is ready for seconds. I think Trowa brought movies with lots of shooting and explosions."

"Is that really what Du—Maxwell needs right now?" I asked with a frown.

"According to Trowa, it is…'pizza, beer, a good action movie…'" Quatre paused, blushing slightly. "'And a good lay.'"

I choked on my own spit, and Quatre helpfully pounded on my back until I caught my breath.


	27. Tangled in the Web

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: I have a word of advice. If you want the full effect of this chapter, go to YouTube and search "Lynch Mob" (a fairly obscure, short-lived group) and the song "Tangled in the Web." Watch the music video, and you will see some serious eye candy as well as get a great feel for the scene Duo and Trowa steal in this chapter. Just a suggestion.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Seven: Tangled in the Web

Barton had taken the middle position on the couch, with Winner tucked in on one side and Maxwell on the other. Chang picked the rocking chair, and I had settled into a recliner, my plate full of pizza on my lap.

After their long drive up, neither Winner nor Barton had a lot to say, so we all pretty much watched the shoot 'em up action movie and stuffed ourselves with beer and pizza. And when the first movie ended, Maxwell sidled over and shoved another in, before returning to the couch to get cozy with his ex.

By the time the second movie was well under way, Duo's empty plate was on the coffee table, with the just as empty beer bottle next to it, and the braided man had his legs hanging over the arm of the couch and his head in his former partner's lap.

Not like that! They were both so deeply ensconced in the movie that there wasn't any sexual overtone to their position at all…except maybe in my mind. Duo looked more like a sleepy cat, draped over both the couch and his ex-lover, his half-lidded gaze on the television screen.

I kept glancing surreptitiously their way, vaguely unhappy with the way Trowa's fingers idly stroked through Duo's bangs, as if in a reflex gesture. My fingers twitched with the urge to do the same, and a memory came back, unbidden, of the way Duo's skin had felt under my hands—the sleek, satiny muscles and hard, flexing abs. And of course, that was followed by the memory of how the rest of him had felt—the long, slender legs locked around my waist as he groaned in ecstasy—the tight heat around my—.

Fuck! I seriously needed a diversion.

"Aw—now that's just sad!" Duo blurted, raising his head slightly and turning a rueful look to his friend.

Barton smirked back. "Amateurish crap," he intoned sagely.

"What are you talking about?" Chang demanded.

"The movie," Duo said with a "well, duh" tone to his voice. "Those strippers are pathetic."

"Strippers?" I looked up at the screen, realizing I'd missed quite a bit of the movie while staring longingly—er—casually watching Trowa "pet" Duo.

The scene in the movie was set in a nightclub, and sure enough there was a stripper on stage, twirling a fishnet stocking on one finger before tossing it out into the audience. It _was _a bit trite, especially considering I'd seen Barton's act and knew it was a hell of a lot more erotic.

Of course, the stripper in the movie was a woman, which certainly took away from the overall effect for me.

"Fuck! I could do better than that when I was six," Duo scoffed.

"You were a stripper at six years old?" Wufei demanded, aghast.

"No," came the quick, rather snide reply. "That's my point. That chick is so obvious it's just pathetic."

"Nobody strips like that anymore," Barton agreed.

Chang pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you two are critiquing a two-minute strip club scene in a B movie."

"If they're gonna include it, they should make it authentic," Duo insisted, sitting up and flipping his braid over a shoulder. "At the very least, they could use better music—and give her a few moves that might actually get a reaction from the guys watching the flick."

"How would _you_ know what a man would find attractive about a woman's moves?" Wufei demanded with a snide expression. "And besides, in this context, it's not supposed to get a reaction," he asserted. "It's just background."

"Well if it were me, _I'd_ get a reaction," Duo muttered defensively, looking at Trowa for support.

"Of course you would," said his fellow performer, giving him a small, intimate smile and running the back of a hand down his cheek. "You could walk across that stage fully clothed and turn on more men than that cow."

Wufei snorted, shaking his head.

I wisely kept silent, glancing at Quatre, who was glancing from the movie to the pair next to him on the couch, a speculative look on his face.

Duo's attention came to focus on my partner, and I almost winced at the wicked gleam in his eyes. "Chang-baby, if you'd ever seen Tro' and me perform, you'd fuckin' cream your pants watching us."

"Not in this lifetime," came the cold, insulted response.

_Oh, no…not a challenge, Chang! You poor fool._

Duo and Trowa exchanged an amused look, and Trowa nodded slightly.

I sat up a little, suddenly interested in where this was going.

"Hey, Chang—ya wanna make a little wager?" Duo asked.

"On what?"

"On whether Tro' and I can get you hard just by putting on a little two-man show."

_Oh dear God—did they plan to have sex right there on the floor? _I didn't know if Chang could handle it, but I knew fucking well _I_ couldn't.

"Maxwell—."

Duo threw a glance my way, but it was more teasing than anything. "Relax, Yuy. We're just gonna give you all a little sample of our act."

"We've seen it," I said quickly, looking at Wufei for confirmation.

He nodded rather frantically. "Barton was on stage when we visited The Jungle."

"I haven't seen it," Quatre commented with—a pout?

Oh, he just could _not _be pouting at having missed the show!

"In that case…" Duo said, standing up and grabbing Trowa's hands, pulling his partner to his feet. "Gimme a sec to run up and grab one of my cd's and a shirt, and then we'll show 'em how it should be done."

I didn't know whether to panic or clap. Part of me was dying to see if Duo danced as erotically as Trowa—and part of me was terrified I wouldn't be able to hide my reaction.

There was no time to protest, as Duo dashed upstairs, returning with a boom box and a fistful of cd's. And sure enough, he'd thrown on a tight, black shirt. He flicked off the movie and its cheesy soundtrack and plugged in the player. "Nine Inch Nails—Depeche Mode—or Lynch Mob?" he asked, smirking coyly.

"Oh, definitely Lynch Mob," Trowa said with a matching grin, as he turned down the lights as much as he could without turning them completely off. "Hot stuff."

"_Tangled in the Web_ it is!" Duo replied, tucking a cd into the player and pushing the button to start the music. He leaned back into Trowa, who wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling his neck teasingly. "Mmm…be gentle with me," Duo purred. "I'm a little rusty at this."

That's right—he'd traded stripping for playing bodyguard to the Sanc Palace girls _how_ long ago?

The first riff was slow, with electric guitar and cymbals in a sort of soft, sensuous intro.

And while it played, Trowa's hands strayed from Duo's waist up to his chest in a smooth stroking motion that instantly had me so hard I had to relocate my plate of pizza to hide the reaction.

Goddamnit—I _knew _what that chest felt like, and wanted to rip Trowa's hands off for touching it. Even as the intro slowed to a momentary standstill, and Duo's hands slid around behind him to clutch Trowa's butt cheeks, I could feel myself holding my breath.

And then a slow, steady beat with lots of brass and percussion started up, and both men began to sway their hips in perfect synch.

Of course, with Duo's ass pressed to Trowa's groin, they'd have been hard put (no pun intended) to _not _be in unison.

_There's a feelin'_

_Little left of Heaven_

_Shook me when you looked my way…_

Barton pushed Maxwell away and spun him around so they were face to face, staring into each other's eyes as they swayed with the music.

_Can't believe it_

_Legs that run forever _

_Love to know you better any time, any place…_

At the mention of legs, Barton was sliding his hands down Maxwell's long, slender ones, almost dropping to his knees in front of him, before easing back up so they were pressed front to front.

_Fallin' fallin'_

_I'm fallin' under your spell_

As the chorus began, Trowa shoved Duo away from him, catching his wrists and lowering the braided man onto his back on the floor, then standing straddling his prone body.

_Callin'…callin'…_

_If you leave me lonely_

_And you take away the things that I love_

_Got a bad emotion_

_Tangled in the web of your love…_

At that point in the music, Barton sank to his knees so that he was just above Duo's hips, and Duo arched up so they brushed together—making the green-eyed dancer throw his head back in a gesture of ecstasy.

The music carried the pair along, Duo sitting up and beginning to loosen the buttons of Barton's shirt, as the other man moved back as if to resist the advance. Maxwell pursued, on hands and knees, until he suddenly stood up and used the edges of Barton's shirt front to haul him back upright.

And in the next motion, he swept the shirt off Trowa's shoulders to bare his chest and torso. But he kept the garment draped around the small of Barton's back and used it to pull him close again, so that they could grind their hips together in a completely obscene and arousing display.

Before the start of the next verse, Barton had wrapped a hand in Duo's braid, bending his head back and running his lips down the pale, slender neck to the top button of his shirt, which he promptly unfastened. With his teeth.

_Hypnotizin'_

_Temperatures risin'_

_As the sweat pours from my head_

_To your lips…_

He then kept going down the row, deftly slipping each one free until the garment fell open to reveal the smooth, sculpted chest and hard abs.

Jesus, the guy was talented! How the hell did he unbutton an entire shirt with only his lips, teeth, and tongue? And was he using them to peel it off his partner?

I think I was panting a little, and I know Quatre was; I could hear his harsh breathing from halfway across the room. Wufei looked a bit—dazed.

_No surprises_

_No, now nothing disguises_

_The dangerous curve _

_Of your hips…_

_Oh my fucking God!_ I didn't know about Wufei, but I was damned close to coming in my own pants as Trowa sank to his knees in front of Duo, running his hands over his hips and down his thighs.

Duo's legs were parted, and as he pulled Trowa back to his feet, the supple, sensuous man slid slowly up his groin until he had him pinned to the wall with his body. Green eyes practically glowed with lust as he looked down into indigo, and the sensuous smirk on both their lips was teasing…tantalizing…hotter than fucking Hell!

_Fallin' fallin'_

_I'm fallin' under your spell_

_Callin'...callin'…_

_If you leave me lonely_

_And you take away the things that I love_

_Got a bad emotion_

_Tangled in the web of your love_

_If you see me comin'_

_Better run and find a place you can hide_

_Got a mad desire_

_Burnin' up my lovin' inside…yeah_

_Oh, burnin' up my lovin' inside._

_Ooh, baby, yeah_

As the song hit a part without words, the two continued their erotic movements. First Duo wrapped his arms around Barton's neck and his legs around his waist, and the auburn-haired man moved them away from the wall, lowering Duo to the floor and hovering above him on hands and knees.

Duo inched away, using elbows and heels to slide out from under…and then Trowa crawled back on top of him, sliding a hand down to undo the zipper of his pants. His gaze followed his hand, and his lips followed his gaze…grazing the front of the faded jeans Duo was wearing and causing the other man to arch up into the touch.

I desperately wanted to see how Chang was dealing with this—to see if he'd lost that bet yet—but I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away. And when Duo stood up and Trowa peeled those jeans off, I decided my partner could go fuck himself—if he thought for one second I was going to miss this performance—or even a split-second of it.

Goddamn!

With each article of clothing that slipped free, I could feel my pulse speeding up…and when I saw the snug black underwear Duo had on, I think an actual groan might have slipped out.

I glanced aside at Quatre, who was flushed, glassy-eyed, and obviously out of breath. Thank God I wasn't the only one!

"Enough!" Wufei yelped suddenly, jumping to his feet and fleeing the room before it could be determined whether he won or lost the bet.

But Duo and Trowa seemed fairly oblivious to his departure. Oh, sure, Duo spared a flash of an evil grin—but then his hands were back on Trowa, sliding up his chest, caressing his nipples, and dancing their way across quivering abs and around slim hips.

I kind of wanted to scream "enough" myself—wishing those hands were on me instead of the lean acrobat. But I was fairly sure all I could have managed was a hoarse croak about then.

_Fallin' fallin'_

_I'm fallin' under your spell,_ Duo Maxwell

_Callin'…callin'…_

_If you leave me lonely_

_And you take away the things that I love_

_Got a bad emotion_

_Tangled in the web of your love_

Yeah—I was beginning to think I knew what a fly felt like as the spider tightened the last loop around its throat.

_If you see me comin'_

_Better run and find a place you can hide_

_Got a mad desire_

_Burnin' up my lovin' inside (yeah)_

_Oh, burnin' up my lovin' inside_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Tangled in the web of your love_

The music slowed again, as Trowa was kissing his way from Duo's navel up his chest, until they ended up pressed against each other, faces flushed and lips parted—only to end with a completely, obscenely deep kiss.

When the cd ended, there was silence…except for the heavy breathing of both Quatre and me, and a quiet moan that escaped Duo's throat even amid a smothering kiss.

Wasn't this supposed to be the part where Duo and Trowa pulled apart, said "How'd you like the show?" and acted like they hadn't just stripped each other almost bare in front of three panting and aroused spectators?

"Holy fucking shit," Quatre gasped breathlessly. "That is the fucking hottest thing I have ever seen in my life!"

"Ditto," I rasped, putting a hand over my eyes and leaning wearily back in my chair, as if by willing it I could get rid of a positively aching erection.

Duo chuckled warmly. "I think we proved our point, eh Tro'?"

"Mmm—but your victim ran away, love."

"His loss," came Duo's throaty reply, as he ran his fingers caressingly through the auburn hair. "We gonna check out the rest of that movie, or go listen at his door to see if he's jerkin' off?"

Trowa laughed then, too, pulling away and picking his shirt and jeans up off the floor, dressing while Duo walked over to restart the movie before bothering to don his own clothes. Damn him!

When Trowa flopped onto the couch next to Quatre, flinging an arm across the back, and more or less around the lawyer's shoulders, I blinked in surprise. Somehow I'd thought he'd stay fixated on Duo a bit longer. Actually, I kind of thought he'd take him straight upstairs and fuck him through the mattress. God knows _I _wanted to.

Quatre turned immediately towards Trowa, and I imagined the heat and sweat emanating from that leopard-patterned body must have been driving him mad with desire. "You two are absolutely amazing—and that wasn't even on a stage or anything. Your act must have been just breathtaking with costumes and the lights and atmosphere in a smoky club."

The auburn-haired man shrugged modestly, looking away and actually appearing to blush a bit. "Lotta people came," he admitted quietly.

"Literally, I'll bet," Quatre said rather naughtily.

Who knew the baby-faced blonde lawyer could have such a dirty mind?

"It's just an act," Duo said in my ear.

I twitched, nearly flinging the plate off my lap in surprise. How had I not noticed him sidle up beside my chair? "Huh?" I managed dumbly.

"The stuff on stage." He was crouched next to my seat so we were at eye level, and I could feel the heat radiating off the hand he had curled over the armrest. "That's not me an' Trowa. I mean, yeah, it's a lot of fun…and a serious turn-on. But it's mostly for the spectators." He leaned in to whisper in my ear, sending electricity straight down my spine to my groin. "You know what's real, lover."

"D-don't call me th-that," I stammered weakly, trying to summon a scowl, and fiercely reminding myself he wasn't serious. He was a player and a joker, and I had to remember that fact before I fell for the seductive siren again.

He pulled back, looking a little stung, and straightened, his glance straying to the pair on the couch. And then he squared his shoulders, smirked nonchalantly, and jerked his head towards the stairs. "I'm gonna go up an' see if Chang-baby's had time to change his shorts yet."

Before I could warn him to steer clear of my uptight partner, he was gone, pattering happily up the stairs to his doom.

"Chang will rip his head off," I predicted, shaking mine.

Barton darted a sharp look my way. "What's your partner's problem, Yuy?"

"He's very straight-laced," I said carefully.

"Intolerant," Winner corrected me meticulously.

"He has a strong sense of propriety."

"And he's a homophobe," added the lawyer. He gave me a long look that made me uneasy. "Must be awkward for you."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wasn't sure if Winner was speaking generically about having to deal with an opinionated, prejudiced partner, or if he was referring to keeping my sexual preferences a secret. Did he know? Or was he just guessing, since I'd acknowledged how erotic Barton and Maxwell's performance had been?

"I imagine you're often busy apologizing for him," he added ambiguously.

"Actually, he usually does it himself, once he realizes what an ass he's been. Honestly, he did apologize to Maxwell today. He may be snide and insulting—but he's usually not cruel on purpose."

"Is there a reason he seems to have such a personal dislike for my client?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug. "If there is, I guess it would be—personal. And most likely not something he'd share."

"I see." The blue eyes brushed across me and I felt bare under that gaze. "Well, I'm glad you don't have the same problem. I mean, you told me you blew up at Duo, which is entirely understandable, given the circumstances. But then, you worried about the effect it had on him." He gave me a warm look. "I'm glad you called."

I couldn't conceal a wry smile. "Yeah—pretty out of character for me—calling a lawyer—voluntarily, that is."

"I don't like most lawyers," confessed the attorney, giving me a conspiratorial smile.

"Neither do I," I admitted. "But you're an exception."

The smile widened. "Why thank you, Heero."

Before things could get any mushier between me and the lawyer, we heard pounding on a door upstairs.

"C'mon, Wuffers! You made a bet, dammit! Open up and prove our act didn't get you hot and bothered, and I'll admit you win!" _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ "Open the door, you big chicken-shit wuss!"

Barton stood and stretched, shaking his head and grinning at Winner. "I'll go quiet him down," he promised.

It was on the tip of my tongue to protest. If Barton did what I thought he was going to do, Maxwell would be far from silent. We'd probably be able to hear his groans and screams all the way to the lake.

As Barton disappeared up the stairs, I forced myself to unclench my fists, and stood up to gather the remains of our pizza and beer night.

"Here—let me help," Winner offered, picking up an empty bottle.

"It's okay," I said curtly. "You must be tired after your trip."

"Well, my ass is," he joked. "I think I'll sleep on my stomach tonight."

I paused, as it dawned on me how easily his choice of words could be misconstrued.

"Oh, that sounded—bad!" he suddenly blurted with a nervous laugh. "I meant—."

"I know what you meant," I said quickly.

I think he was blushing a bit as he continued to pick up empties.

"While we're on the subject of sleeping arrangements," I commented, keeping my back to him as I gathered napkins, "I take it Barton will share Maxwell's room and you'll take the spare in mine?"

"Oh. That would be fine."

Sure it would, if I didn't give in to the urge to choke the life out of Barton first chance I got.

"Unless you'd like to kick Chang out of the master bedroom," I added. "He could take the other twin bed in the room I'm using." I shrugged slightly. "We sleep in shifts anyway—so one of us is always awake and on duty."

"Trowa and I could help with that—."

"No!" I said too sharply. "I mean—you're civilians. I don't expect you to do my job—or Chang's."

He glanced sideways at me as he picked up an empty pizza box and turned towards the kitchen. "I think being here under the circumstances renders us something more than mere civilians. How hard can it be to watch a surveillance monitor?"

"That's not the hard part," I told him. "It's knowing what to do when you spot something that takes all the training and practice."

"Ah. Point taken."

We moved our conversation to the kitchen, setting the plates in the sink to soak while we packed up the trash.

"I really appreciate all you've done, Winner," I told him, as my gaze fell once again on the gleaming surface of the new laptop. "I mean, you not only provided our lodging and a vehicle—at your own expense—but you've replaced the most valuable tool in my arsenal. I was lost without my laptop. Now at first light, I can go out and set up monitoring devices where I've already planned to put them. Then we'll have advance warning if anyone gets within shooting distance."

"I appreciate all _you've_ done for my client," came the frank reply. "I saw the last safe house, Yuy. And I can't believe you got Duo out of there alive."

"He did his part," I said simply. "When he said he reacts well under pressure, he wasn't kidding."

"Even so, escaping from that attack was an impressive feat. It proved beyond a doubt that I was right to ask Po for you and Chang to take on the job of protecting Duo, even if your partner's tolerance level _is_ pretty low."

I merely shrugged. "I'm sure there are other cops who'd have done a fine job."

"But would they have called to let me know Duo was lonely?" he countered. "Would they have cared about him—about his feelings?"

"I don't—didn't." It was hard to lie while looking into those earnest blue eyes. No wonder Winner could break just about any witness on the stand. "Look, Winner, yeah—I guess you were right. He does grow on you. And it was hard seeing him unhappy." I took a deep breath and forced the rest out. "I'm glad you brought Barton."

_Damn was that hard to say!_

"Are you really?" Again the sharp eyes picked at my shell of indifference.

"Of course I am," I sputtered hastily. "He can occupy Maxwell—keep him from dwelling on his fears—." _Fuck him senseless—._

Oh God, my stomach knotted up at the thought. I had no right to be jealous. This was what I wanted…what I needed…to be able to do my job without obsessing about Duo. So why the fuck was I still doing just that?

"He can provide that 'good lay' he said Maxwell needed," I added, trying for a flippant tone that just never came.

"I think you've misinterpreted their relationship," Quatre said carefully.

"What's to misinterpret?" I said coolly. "They were fuck-buddies. Barton admitted that much when we questioned him back at The Jungle."

"That was before Merquise."

"And this is after him." I had a feeling Winner was seeing only what he wanted to see—the deep friendship and caring between Barton and Maxwell. And he was overlooking the obvious intimacy and passion.

I felt a stab of pity for the sweet blonde. He was as out of his depth as I was—dealing with feelings that had no place in his line of work.

Interestingly, the look he gave me seemed full of pity, too. "We'll talk more tomorrow," he suggested. "I think we all need a good night's sleep and to gain a little perspective."

I snorted wryly. "The only perspective I'm interested in is the one my mini-cams will provide when linked up to the laptop. I'll be able to monitor the entire valley. And that, Mister Winner, is my top priority. You and Barton can handle morale." I ran a hand over the computer, sparing him a brief glance. "You can go ahead upstairs if you'd like. It'll take me a couple of hours to load my software, and then I'll trade shifts with Chang."

"Sounds good," he agreed, letting me change the subject without protest.

"You might want to take the bed closer to the window," I added, not looking up as he started out of the kitchen. "You won't be bothered by the noise as much." I saw his steps falter—watched him pause in the doorway and shake his head before continuing on.

* * *

After Winner left, I worked into the small hours of the morning, a bit surprised that I never heard a peep from upstairs the whole time. Not that it kept my imagination from supplying an entire sound track.

I fucking hated Barton.

When I finally finished my upgrades and programming, I shut down the laptop and stretched wearily, deciding it was time to wake Chang and get a few hours of sleep myself.

I climbed the stairs slowly, and caught myself holding my breath and listening as I neared the door to Maxwell's room. It was ajar, as usual, and I thought of shutting it. For fuck's sake, the least they could do was keep their private lives behind closed doors.

But the murmur of voices stayed my hand.

"So what's with you and the cop?" Trowa was asking.

"Hm?"

"Don't be evasive, Duo. I know you too well."

"How about you and my lawyer?"

There was a snort of wry laughter. "Diversionary tactics don't work on me, love. You should know that by now."

"Yeah," came an amused drawl. "You high-wire performers—total focus."

"I don't know that I'd like to try that just now," Trowa said thoughtfully. "Speaking of being rusty…"

"Isn't it like riding a bicycle?"

"Sure—only fifty feet off the ground."

There was a pause, and a soft groan. "God, that feels good."

I closed my eyes, clenching my hands into fists.

"Your muscles are so tight. Tense much?" came the reply.

"You have no idea, Tro'. This is makin' me crazy. Nothing to do…no one to talk to…I can't go out. Might as well be in prison."

"Prison guards aren't as hot as Yuy and Chang."

There was a muffled snicker. "Chang's as straight as an arrow…and come to think of it, maybe he's got one shoved up his ass. He sure acts like he has a stick up there."

For two guys fucking, they sure did chatter a lot. I took a quiet step away from the door, catching a glimpse of the bed. Duo was face down, with Barton sitting straddling his legs and—giving him a _back rub_? Fully clothed. Or at least, both still wearing pants.

_What the fuck?_ They were supposed to be engaged in hot, wild sex, and instead Barton was massaging Maxwell's back. It was a warm, intimate scene—but certainly not what I'd expected.

Trowa laughed, and then his tone turned speculative. "And Yuy?"

"Hm. Not so straight, I guess." Duo's reply was muffled a little in his pillow.

"I figured that much out from the way he kept shifting that plate of pizza around on his lap during our little performance." _He'd noticed that? _A momentary silence made me shift my weight and ease a step closer. "But there's more?"

"I kind of did something—bad," Maxwell said in a tone that made him sound like a naughty boy.

_Oh, fuck! Was he going to tell Trowa about—us?_

Before I got my answer, Chang's bedroom door opened, and I spun guiltily. Not wanting my partner to give my eavesdropping away, I walked hastily towards him as if I hadn't paused on the way to wake him.

"Good—you're up," I said quietly, with a brisk, business-like tone. "I was just about to wake you." I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "All's quiet with Maxwell and our guests," I told him. "You can go ahead downstairs. But be sure to wake me by eight. I want to get an early start on the monitoring equipment."

He nodded, glancing uncomfortably at the door to Maxwell's room. "How long will Winner and Barton be staying?" he asked coolly. "I'd like to avoid a repeat performance of that scandalous display this evening."

"We haven't discussed a timetable," I told him. "I'll ask Winner in the morning." I smirked wistfully, an image of Duo's half-lidded eyes and sultry smile flashing before my eyes. "I warned you that if you reacted, Maxwell would keep pushing, didn't I? Now that he knows how uptight you are about nudity, he'll use it to torment you."

"No shit."

"Not that you don't deserve it," I added, giving him a sharp look. "What happened to that 'less adversarial relationship' you were going for?"

"That was with Maxwell—not his attorney," Wufei pointed out. "And I _was_ being less adversarial before he decided to put on that exhibition in the living room."

That was true enough. There was a fine line between teasing and tormenting—and both Chang and Maxwell were walking it. At times I thought they were close to a breakthrough in their stormy relationship. Or maybe just a breakdown. Who the hell knew?

"Well, considering he got you to flee the room, he might never wear clothes around you again," I commented, enjoying the way it made Chang's face pale. _Oh, I wouldn't mind a naked Duo Maxwell at all! On the contrary…_

My partner rolled his eyes in despair. "I'm in Hell," he concluded. "I've pissed off the Gods and I'm in Hell."

"Well, you pissed off the God of Death, anyway," I pointed out, referring to the Shinigami nickname Maxwell used. "Seriously, Chang. Next time he baits you, let it go, okay? Prove you're the better man by taking his shit with humor and grace for a change."

Not that I thought Wufei was "better" than Duo—but I knew the phrase would appeal to his sense of self-worth.

"He accepted your apology," I reminded him.

That earned me a sharp look from the onyx eyes, and a slightly chastened expression. "Yes, he did."

"Now it's up to you to make good on it."

He gave a curt nod. "I will try harder," he sighed. "It's just so difficult—when he's so blatantly gay and unashamedly sexual. I watched that stupid onna at the diner throw herself at him, and then was subjected to Barton and him slobbering all over one another. And all I could think was that someone just like him stole Meilan and destroyed her life. And mine."

"Someone _like _him," I echoed. "Not _him_. Remember that." I turned and headed for my room, leaving my partner to mull over our latest conversation. If even a portion of it got through to him and he was able to modify his attitude towards Maxwell, I knew he could win over the other two as well.

I'd known Chang for several years, and his recent behavior was so far beneath him it just stunned me. He'd always been all about justice and honor—and I wanted to see _that_ Chang Wufei back again—the sooner the better.


	28. Wakeup Call

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Eight: Wakeup Call

I don't know why I slept so well that night. I mean, after Maxwell and Barton's performance, you'd think I'd have had erotic dreams at the very least. Or nightmares about what they might be doing to each other in the room next door.

But something about the portion of their conversation I overheard eased my jealousy just a bit. That's not to say I wasn't green with envy—watching them get to touch each other so casually and intimately was driving me crazy. But the only time I'd ever seen them alone together, all they were doing was talking.

Could it be they weren't looking to resume their sexual relationship in the wake of Merquise's death? And why not? As far as I could see, they were great for each other. They were open and sharing, and obviously deeply concerned about each other's welfare. Why weren't they a couple?

It certainly couldn't be that Duo was saving himself for me—not the way I'd been treating him. He had to know there wasn't a future for us together, if only because he'd be in the relocation program.

And as for living "in the moment," he'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? So what was keeping him from moving on and enjoying what Barton was clearly offering?

Chang came for me, interrupting my half-awake mental ramblings, and I rolled out of bed, noticing Winner was still snoring blissfully away in the other twin bed. And no, he hadn't taken the one by the window.

While I padded down the hall to the bathroom, my partner yawned, stretched, and passed me on the way to his room. We were settling into a fairly comfortable routine in our new abode—and actually that worried me. As in the last safe house, we needed to be ready to drop everything and run if necessary; I wasn't sure we were.

But I knew once I set up surveillance, I'd feel much better about it. And maybe over supper we could have a group meeting and discuss preparations for relocating if we had to.

I also hoped Po might have told Winner a bit about the case and the timetable for the trial. Having had that nightmare about Duo getting shot, I found myself longing for the whole fiasco to be over and for the braided man to be safely away with his new identity and new life.

Except that meant I'd never see him again. And even thinking about that suddenly hurt more than I ever thought it could. I looked forward to the conclusion of the Khushrenada case with very mixed emotions.

By the time I finished a quick shower and dressed, my stomach had begun to grumble for breakfast, so I headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

Duo was sitting on the counter, talking to Trowa, who was standing between his legs, with a hand on each of Duo's thighs.

"So you really _like _Quat," the braided man was saying.

Barton nodded, looking kind of sheepish. "Think I'm nuts?" he asked quietly.

"Did you think I was nuts when I hooked up with Zechs?"

"No—but you had a chance, at least. _He _made the first move. I think with Quatre, it'll have to be me." Barton barely glanced over as I walked in and headed for the refrigerator, giving them a brief nod of greeting as I passed, and Duo just gave me a cheeky wink.

"So _what_ if you have to get the ball rolling?" Maxwell asked his friend. "Wouldn't be the first time you went after what you wanted."

"But he's a lawyer—a smart, educated, successful guy," Barton said quietly, all of his insecurity and uncertainty obvious.

"And Zechs was a millionaire—a big shot nightclub owner. But he still wanted _me_," Duo replied with a mixture of awe and pride. "You were the one who said love wasn't based on stupid shit like social standing and money." He reached out and grabbed his former lover by the shoulders, looking deep into the green eyes. "He _likes _you, Tro'. Y'can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Honest."

"Y'think?"

I don't know what possessed me to put in my two cents worth, but I did. I shut the refrigerator and turned to face both of them. "If you'd like an impartial opinion, Barton, I think Winner's quite taken with you," I said firmly. "He stepped completely out of his comfort zone riding up here on the back of a bike with you. And all evening he could hardly take his eyes off you. I think it's pretty obvious he's interested."

Maxwell was open-mouthed with surprise. I don't know why. I mean, giving Barton a little reassurance and a nudge to go after what he wanted wasn't such a big deal, was it?

"You think a lawyer would consider a serious relationship with a stripper?" Barton asked.

"More to the point," I said coolly. "Is that what you're looking for? Because I don't think Winner's a 'quick roll in the sack' kind of guy."

"That's not what I want!" Barton said hotly. "I could get that from any guy on the street, Yuy."

Duo gave a throaty chuckle. "You could get that from _me_," he pointed out.

Trowa looked quickly back at him, leaning in to place a brief kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I know, Shini," he said huskily, using that endearing little nickname that made me want to rip his throat out. "I was just making a point." He turned back to me. "I'm not looking for a conquest, Yuy."

"Good," I said, tamping down my resentment of the way his hands were resting on Duo's thighs, the thumbs stroking lightly against the faded jeans. "Because Winner's a very smart man, and he'd see right through a quick seduction."

"You could always try pointing a gun at him," Duo added cheekily, making my face flame with embarrassment.

By the way Barton's eyes slid aside to me and then back to Maxwell, I could tell he'd told him, and I wanted to just sink into the ground. Had they fucking discussed _everything_?"

"That's more up your alley," Trowa said with a wink at Duo.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," I muttered, glaring at Duo. "You _told _him? Why not just tell Chang while you're at it?"

Barton gave me a sly sidelong glance and raised an eyebrow. "Whatever are you talking about, Yuy? I was referring to when Duo met Zechs."

"Bullshit."

To my surprise, Duo pushed off the counter, sliding down the front of his former lover and then pushing him back so he could stalk angrily out of the room.

Leaving me standing there with his friend giving me an accusing glare.

"What?" I demanded.

"You're an asshole, Yuy," Trowa said frankly.

"Why? Because I'm pissed that your pal used a gun to coerce me into sex?"

"I'm sure it took a lot of persuading," he sneered. "You want to talk about not being able to take your eyes off someone? I notice how often you watch him."

"He's a protected witness," I said defensively. "Of _course _I watch him." _Oh, lame Yuy. Very lame._

Barton gave a skeptical snort.

"Besides, he's tried to run away twice. I have to make sure he doesn't." _Total bullshit._

"So tie him up," came the snide reply. Barton gave me a perfectly nasty leer. "He kinda likes a little bondage sometimes."

"I don't need to hear about your kinky exploits," I shot back with a scowl.

"You really have no clue, do you?" he demanded, shaking his head. "Y'think Duo just throws himself at every guy that comes along?"

"In a word—yes!"

"You don't deserve him."

What the hell was he talking about? Deserve him how? I know I didn't deserve to have my own gun turned against me and to be forced to have sex with a witness. But what else was he talking about?

"Deserve him?" I asked cluelessly. "Barton, I don't even _want_ him."

He saw right through that blatant lie. "Bullshit. I saw your face during our performance. And I saw it just now when I called him 'Shini.' So don't pretend you aren't interested. You and I both know you are."

Shit. How the hell had he noticed my expression at his term of endearment? "Why do you call him that, anyway?" I asked, deftly trying to change the subject.

"Well there _is _that tattoo," he said as if I were stupid.

I'd never really given the tattoo much thought. I figured "Shinigami" was some sort of gang title Duo used. "God of Death" was certainly a label designed to strike fear into the hearts of enemies. But "Shini" sounded soft and cute, especially the way it rolled off Barton's tongue.

"Now it's my turn," he added brusquely.

"Your turn?"

"You asked a question. Now answer one for me. Why do you call him Maxwell?"

"What?" I shook my head uncomprehendingly "That's his name."

"It's his _last_ name. Would it fuckin' kill you to call him Duo?"

"I'm a professional—."

"Professional my ass! You had sex with a witness, Yuy. Even I know that's against your department policy." His green eyes were alight with emotion.

"So is falling in love with one!" I snapped back. Trowa's eyes widened, and I felt the color drain from my face.

I groped hastily for a handle on the situation, wishing I could take back the words I'd blurted out. "Just—let it go, Barton. What happened—happened. I can't undo it. But I can damn well make sure it doesn't happen again."

"You think by calling him Maxwell you can keep your objectivity?" Barton asked, his expression softening. "It's a little late for that, detective." He actually smiled slightly, and shook his head. "Where Duo's concerned, objectivity just flies right out the window—ask anyone who's ever met him. Even your stick-up-his-ass partner isn't objective about Duo, is he?"

That was true enough. Duo seemed to bring out a strong emotional response—positive _or _negative—in everyone he met.

"Wufei has very clear-cut notions of propriety," I said carefully. "And Max—D—Duo just pushes every button for him."

"God, listen to you," sighed Trowa. "You just choke on the word, don't you?"

"At least I _tried_," I blurted in frustration. "What the fuck do you want from me, Barton? I can't get involved with him!"

"You already are."

"I can't let it get in the way of protecting him," I clarified. "And when the trial's over, he's going into the relocation program. I won't ever see him again. Do you understand that?"

A flicker of pain passed through the green eyes. "I understand it all too well, Yuy. I'll lose my best friend in the world when he goes." He shook his head ruefully. "But at least he'll go without wondering how much he means to me."

"That's nice," I said curtly, walking over and grabbing my laptop and the case of surveillance monitors I'd placed next to it the previous night. "At least you _know _what he means to you," I added under my breath, taking the equipment and stalking out before Barton could try to get me to admit to things I wasn't ready to face.

I was in the living room, programming the mini cams when Barton sauntered out of the kitchen and looked around for Maxwell. He spied him on the deck, leaning on the railing looking out over the lake, and with an annoyed glance at me went out to join him.

I watched out of the corner of my eyes, wondering what he was going to say to Duo—what he might tell him about the conversation we'd just had.

When he got to the braided man, he settled in beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders. Duo snuggled up against him, and I once again had that overwhelming urge to go drag them apart.

Okay—so I was jealous. That didn't mean I felt anything for Duo, right? Aside from lust, I mean. I could admit that much. There was no point in denying the attraction. Yes, I was very, very attracted to Duo, physically. And it galled me to see the casual intimacy between Trowa and him. I wanted to touch him again—to wrap an arm around him—to feel the silken hair slide through my fingers.

But physical attraction was a far cry from love, no matter what I might have blurted out to Barton in the heat of the moment. Love would mean I'd care what happened to him—I'd worry about him—I'd want him to be happy.

I'd miss his laugh…and his smile…and the way the indigo eyes glimmered with mischief or burned with lust.

I couldn't love him.

"_But you __did__ miss his smile, and his laugh—and you __do__ care what happens to him," _said that annoying little voice in the back of my head that I wished had a corporeal form so I could strangle it and shut it up forever.

I was nearly done with the settings on the equipment, when I heard the shuffle of a foot behind me. "Morning, Winner," I said without looking up.

There was a muffled yawn. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Chang's dead quiet when he walks. You scuffed."

The lawyer gave a chuckle. "I'll have to work on that." He came around the couch to look at what I was doing. "Looks—complicated."

"Not really. But I have to set frequencies and make sure the uplink is functional, so I don't waste time putting out equipment only to have it not work properly."

"Ah." He walked over to the window and tapped, smiling and giving a little wave of greeting as Duo looked over Trowa's shoulder at him.

Then Duo elbowed Trowa, and the green-eyed man turned and gave a shy smile.

"I think they're waiting for you," I told him, shaking my head. "I'm going out to set up surveillance. It'll probably take me a couple of hours at least."

"Would you like help?"

I smiled wryly. "Definitely not. I work better alone." I got to my feet and gathered up my equipment, placing it in a backpack for ease of transport. "You three have a nice morning. I'll be back in time to wake Chang. But if you have any concerns, go ahead and do it sooner."

The blue eyes crinkled at the corners as Quatre smiled. "Is he less cranky after a good night's sleep?"

"One can always hope."

* * *

I spent a very pleasant morning hiking the trails I'd previously checked out, and placing mini cams or motion sensors where I thought they'd do the most good. With the software on my laptop, I'd be able to watch four separate views at a time, and I'd set the cameras to send me an alert if they picked up large-scale movement.

Not that I thought we'd have another all-out assault. It was clear to me now that Khushrenada had planned for a single, decisive strike, waiting only for confirmation of the location. Now that we'd eluded that first attempt, he'd probably have spread out his forces in all directions we might have taken. If we were found, it would be by a single scout, or two, and they'd call in reinforcements.

But if I spotted them first, I hoped to be able to be long gone by the time those reinforcements arrived. Or better yet, I'd love to get the drop on one of Khushrenada's hired hands and see if we could squeeze information out of him. After all, two witnesses were better than one.

I ate a protein bar for a snack, drank a bottle of water, and kept at my task until I was satisfied with the results. And I still had some sensors and mini cams left in case we had to move again on such short notice I couldn't retrieve those I'd just planted.

When I finished my work, I headed back to the safe house, scanning every inch of terrain as I went, pleased at the ruggedness that would help to isolate us from attack. In fact, although I had a good view of the house, lake and valley from the ridge, that was only from the front. The deck itself faced the lake, and would only be visible from that direction. I idly wondered if there was a way to set up some kind of floating device on the lake to monitor each shore.

When I got back from establishing and securing our perimeter, I found Trowa, Quatre and Duo on the deck, sitting around the umbrella table and having what looked like a wine and cheese tasting party.

"What the fuck?" I muttered. The table was littered with open bottles, plates of crackers and cheese, and even some grapes and strawberries. I hadn't realized how much fresh food Winner and Barton had brought along.

Duo looked up, smiling and raising a glass toward me. "Hey, Yuy! You're just in time. Tell 'em how fuckin' big that bear was."

I looked at Winner and Barton. "Bear?"

"The one that chased Chang up a tree," Trowa said with obvious relish.

"Oh. Huge," I shrugged. "Had to be three or four hundred pounds."

"See?" Duo crowed. "I told you guys. It was unbelievable!" He leaned forward, his attention once again on his audience as he began detailing how he'd lured the cubs away with a protein bar, embellishing it a bit so that the momma bear was practically nipping at his toes before Chang got safely down and we made our escape.

I found myself grinning as I watched him, taking in the grand gestures and sparkling eyes. God, he was gorgeous! Had I said that before?

Well, whatever I'd said, had to have been an understatement. When he was in the midst of sharing a harrowing experience with his friends, he was downright brilliant. Animated. Happy. Breathtakingly beautiful.

"—come you didn't shoot it?" Winner asked.

Duo's head turned towards me, indigo eyes affixing me with a searching gaze.

I blinked. "Huh?"

"I asked you why you didn't shoot the bear," Winner repeated, smirking knowingly as his eyes flickered between Duo and me.

Fuck! Had he told Winner, too?

It took me a moment to drag my thoughts back to the incident with the bear. But then I offered a nonchalant shrug. "Maxwell threw himself in front of the rifle."

Barton and Winner both looked accusingly at Duo, who had apparently left out that tiny detail.

He raised his hands in surrender. "She had cubs!" he blurted. "Tro' you know how I feel about orphans. I couldn't let that happen to those babies."

Winner threw back his head and laughed. "Gods, Duo! You are such a sentimental sap! I never knew!" He sounded a bit tipsy, and judging from the quantity of empties, they probably all were.

Duo looked appealingly at me. And just plain appealing, too. "Tell him I'm not, Yuy. Tell him what a hardass I've been…please."

I gave him a wicked smile, secretly relieved that his annoyance with me from that morning had passed. "You, Maxwell? You're just a sweet, sweet kid," I crooned teasingly. "All that tough-guy shit? Just an act, isn't it?" Okay, I was only half-teasing with that last part. I knew damned well he wasn't half as brassy as he pretended to be.

"It is not!" Duo protested hotly, trying to scowl. "I _am _tough."

My laughter just seemed to incense him even more. "Maxwell—I've seen guys in prison that cut bodily parts off other inmates just for amusement. They'd have asked me to start with the bear's feet and shoot off bits of her until I ran out of bullets. You don't even _know _tough."

His jaw dropped, and he looked up with wide eyes as I walked over and helped myself to a couple of crackers and some cheese.

"Wine?" Quatre asked smoothly, pouring a glassful and holding it out.

"That's Maxwell's department," I punned, taking the glass and downing half of it in a gulp. Okay, so I was thirsty. And it was really, really good. "He spent the first half of the trip _whining_."

"Hey! I did not!"

"You started it in the hospital," I reminded him.

"He's got a point," Trowa shrugged, surprising me by taking my side. "You were pretty pouty that day." He reached to stroke Duo's cheek, and the braided man jerked away in a huff. "Aw, but you're beautiful when you pout," Barton added. He glanced slyly up at me. "Isn't he, Yuy?"

"Fuckin' gorgeous," I said carelessly, finishing my glass of wine and setting it down. "I have to go wake Chang. I suggest you three tone it down a bit when he comes downstairs."

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

I'd started for the door, but paused before stepping in. "C'mon, Maxwell. You aren't stupid. You know how you look." I continued on my way before the discussion could go on. I'd already said enough incriminating things in front of Winner and Barton. But then, if Maxwell had told them everything, there wasn't much point in trying to evade such a silly question.

I woke my partner and while he freshened up and dressed, I set up the laptop in an alcove off the living room. All my monitors were working perfectly, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I sent off an e-mail to Captain Po telling her we were "secure." That would let her know Winner had made it to us safely as well, without risking having excessive information floating around the internet.

Chang showed up moments later, sparing a glance out the door to the deck. "What the hell are they up to now?" he sighed.

"Partying," I said bluntly. There wasn't a more fitting name for it. "Telling stories. Shit like that."

The dark eyes wandered their way again, and I thought Chang looked almost—wistful.

"They'd probably offer you a glass of wine if you went out there," I nudged, wondering if there was a chance in Hell he'd want to socialize with those three.

"Where'd they get wine? And so much of it?" he asked, ignoring my comment.

"I think Winner mentioned something about a wine closet in the cellar—back when we talked about the safe houses he'd be making available to us."

"It shouldn't surprise me," he said, with a shake of his head. "But as long as it keeps them out of trouble and out of my way…"

Ah. I guessed that meant he wouldn't be joining them.

I spent a few moments showing Chang how to key up various mini cams for different views of our surroundings, and then how to zoom in with them, or pan out for a wider look.

"Remarkable." He watched me pull up a view of the deck and magnify it until we could see all three of our companions.

It looked like Maxwell was giving Winner another stripping demonstration—either that or getting ready to hop in the hot tub. He had his back against the railing of the deck, and was swaying his hips to the music they had playing, while slowly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off a shoulder.

Wufei swore under his breath, reaching to take my hand off the mouse and close that particular window...just when it was getting interesting.

I sighed, chuckling quietly. "I think he's just showing Winner the ropes, Chang."

"And you don't find that at all objectionable?"

I shrugged. "Not really. I told you I'm not the kind of prude you are."

"And what about last night?" my partner added, giving me a wary look. "Care to tell me why you seemed to find that display so interesting that you couldn't tear your eyes away?" Chang asked coolly.

"For fuck's sake, Chang, they were _good_," I said with a glare. "Why can't you just admit they've got genuine talent at what they do?"

"Because what they do is put on a decadent display," he muttered coldly. "It's—indecent. No one should flaunt their body that way—and to do it for money is practically prostitution—even without actual sex."

"It's not indecent. It's art," I replied hotly. "It may not be _your _kind of art—but between the hours it must take Barton to keep the designs painted on, and the hours of practice to get a routine right—it certainly deserves to be called more than a decadent display!"

"Stripping is stripping, Yuy."

"Only to a judgmental ass!" I retorted. "Maybe you should take that stick out of your butt and try to open your mind a bit."

The onyx eyes pinned a suspicious gaze on me. "So _you _have an open mind, Yuy?"

"It's getting there," I asserted, knowing that I'd condemned Duo at the start of our trip as well.

"And you found their performance artistic?"

I nodded.

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Are you gay?" he asked abruptly.

"Have I ever given you reason to think I am?" I countered, giving him a flat, expressionless stare.

"Not until recently," he said carefully.

"Then shut the fuck up about it and get your mind out of the gutter," I suggested. "If I _were_ gay, it would have no bearing on my work performance or my interaction with you. So I'd consider it none of your business or anyone else's."

He backed off a bit at that, frowning thoughtfully. "If it could affect your ability to be objective about our witness—."

"_You _aren't objective about our witness!" I snapped.

He flinched, appearing to consider that statement. And then he frowned and looked—chastened. "You're right. I'm not. Or, at least, I haven't been. At the start of this venture, he seemed to exemplify the worst qualities in the people we deal with on a regular basis, and I genuinely resented having to babysit his sorry ass until he could testify. He was uncooperative, selfish, immature, snide and downright hostile at times." He looked troubled. "And even though he's…improved…and whether it's particularly gracious of me or not, I can't _like _him, Yuy."

"You don't have to. You simply have to do your job and help me keep him alive."

He sighed deeply, and then nodded. "That much I can do."

"Perhaps if you examined how much of the aggravation he causes you is due to his actions and how much is due to your personal history, you could overlook more of his behavior," I added. "After all, as we've discussed before, he teases because he gets a reaction."

"And he strips _why_?" came a less aggravated and more amused response.

"Because he's good at it?" I offered with a faint grin.

"You'll have to forgive me if I leave that particular camera view turned off during my shift," Chang said steadily.

"Be my guest. As long as you watch for trespassers, you will have done your job." I excused myself and went to catch a few hours of sleep while I could, the image of Maxwell playfully unbuttoning his shirt lingering behind my lids for some time after I closed my eyes.


	29. In Hot Water

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Sorry the lemon isn't too detailed...but honestly, from Heero's POV it's a bit tricky. He's not _that_ much of a voyeur. At least Trowa and Quatre have their moment in the hot tub!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Twenty Nine: In Hot Water

I woke to the smell of something delicious cooking, and sat up in bed, glancing at the clock and realizing it was early evening. For a moment, it felt like I was at a resort or vacation spot, lounging on the most luxurious bed I'd ever slept in (at least since the _last _Winner house) and listening to the faint strains of music drifting up the stairs. It really was a peaceful place; way too peaceful for our mission.

I couldn't afford to get lulled into a false sense of security. And as I got up and dressed, I tried to think of a way to impress upon the three men relaxing on the deck just how vulnerable we could be. Maybe if we discussed the case over dinner it would bring up old fears and remind everyone what we were doing out here in the middle of nowhere. We were definitely not on vacation.

I pattered down the stairs, sniffing the air and trying not to drool. "Chang?"

"At the laptop, Yuy. Just finished a complete survey of each and every camera angle."

"Except _that _one," I teased.

He turned as I walked up beside his chair. "Actually, I even checked the deck."

"And—?"

"They've got enough clothes on for decency's sake. I think they're making dinner."

"God, is that what I smell?" I asked, glancing out the sliding doors to the deck.

Sure enough, Maxwell was at the grill, while Barton and Winner lounged at the table. It looked like Trowa had been drafted to chop up some sort of vegetables, and Quatre was wrapping something in aluminum foil.

"Any idea what we're having?" I asked my partner, leaning past him to adjust the settings on one of the monitors.

I don't know if it was just my imagination, but it seemed like he shied away slightly.

"I heard something about salmon, corn, and a rice and vegetable mix," he replied, his gaze firmly fixed on the screen. "Perhaps I should go walk the grounds until it's ready."

"If you like," I shrugged, giving him the distance he seemed to crave. "I'll take charge in here."

He got up and stretched, shaking out the stiffness from sitting. "When will we contact Po?"

"I already e-mailed her that we're secure," I replied, settling into the seat he'd vacated. "I plan to ask Winner to fill us in on what he knows of the investigation over dinner. Then if there's a need to contact the Captain, we'll do it afterwards."

With a nod of acknowledgement, he headed off for his walk, while I started a quick diagnostic check on the security program running, and then headed for the kitchen to get something to drink.

As I took a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator, I noticed a pan simmering on the stove, and edged over to see if that was responsible for the delicious smell that filled the room.

I'd no sooner opened the lid than Duo came breezing into the kitchen, carrying an empty tray. "Uh-uh, Yuy," he scolded, slipping up beside me and slamming the lid back down. "You wait!"

I turned to face him, tempted to use his pouting tactic right back at him. But I had a little pride left. "How soon is supper? I'm starving."

"Fish is on the grill, along with the corn, and once I add the veggies to this rice, it'll be about ten or fifteen minutes."

"Anything to snack on in the meantime?" I was thinking of the cheese and crackers they'd been sampling earlier.

He was right next to me at the stove, and turned to look me full in the face. "That could be arranged."

Oh fuck. I knew exactly what he had in mind, and the temptation was nearly overwhelming.

"You said before I smelled good enough to eat," he reminded me in a husky undertone.

_Yes, you are. _"I'd have to have a taste to be sure," I answered ambiguously, slipping into the flirtation he made so damned easy.

He edged a little closer. "How much of a taste?"

Holding back a groan, I let my eyes drift to the parted lips and hazy, half-lidded eyes. "All of it," I sighed, closing my eyes and turning my face aside. "Jesus, Maxwell, I _can't_—."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed in return. "You made that plenty clear."

"So why don't you just—stop?"

"Maybe _I_ can't." He reached up to catch my chin and turn my face back towards him, his lips brushing mine. "Maybe I never found anything I wanted so badly before—that I'd do anything—."

The sound of a clearing throat made me jerk sharply away from him, and turn to find Barton leaning in the doorway, holding a bowl and smirking. "If you're done molesting the hired help, Duo, Quat wants to know if it's time to turn over the salmon."

I swallowed hard and moved towards the table, while Duo gave a frustrated little huff and grabbed the bowl out of Trowa's hands. "I'll be right out," he growled, dumping the chopped vegetables into the pot on the stove and stirring it in. Then he slapped the lid back on and sighed gustily before brushing past Barton and heading for the deck.

The exotic dancer eyed me appraisingly.

"Don't start," I warned.

He gave a shrug. "Farthest thing from my mind."

"I'm not going to encourage him."

"You don't have to." A faint smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "But remember, I warned you what I'd do if anything happened to him. And I wasn't just talking about the Khushrenada thing."

I waved him away, not particularly concerned with his threats. "If you're so fuckin' concerned, Barton, go do what I let Winner bring you here for."

"What's that?"

God, did I have to spell it out for him?

"Be the friend and fuck-buddy he needs, why don't you?" I growled, glaring over at the auburn-haired man.

"I didn't come here to fuck him, Yuy. I came because he was lonely."

"Isn't it the same thing to him?"

Trowa just shook his head. "God, Maxwell knows how to pick 'em," he sighed under his breath, turning away. "Y'know what, Yuy? I was really trying to see what he saw in you—but I don't." He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I mean, sure, you're hot—everything he looks for in a guy. But how he finds anything in your personality redeeming is beyond me."

"Since when did he see anything in me at all, besides someone he wanted a quick fuck from?"

"I completely see why he called Hilde now," said Trowa. "You are lousy fuckin' company, Yuy. And your partner's no better." He fixed a stern look on me. "I may have to stick around just so Duo has someone who gives a shit about him…not about a court case, or his potential as a witness…and not about getting a conviction against Khushrenada at all costs."

"I won't get a conviction without Duo."

"You say all you are to him is a 'quick fuck.' Well what about _you_? You took what you wanted, and _still_ all he is to you is a potential witness!" He glared at me with those intense green eyes of his. "Or so you say."

"That's right, Barton," I lied, glaring right back. I'd slipped up that morning and used a word I had no business saying, even in passing. I didn't want to love Duo, and I couldn't afford to get attached, and I sure as hell didn't need Barton knowing if I did and if I was. "He's my ticket to any promotion I want. If I keep Maxwell alive and get him to the trial, and we put Khushrenada away, my career will be made!"

At that moment, Maxwell walked back in, the glitter deep in the indigo eyes telling me he'd heard every word I'd just uttered. "Hey, Tro'. Gimme a hand with the dishes, will ya?"

_Fuck!_ The tightness of his voice was a tangible thing. Without even saying a word to me, he'd conveyed how very pissed he was.

"Sure," Barton replied, shifting uncomfortably. He shot an almost apologetic look my way, and I wondered what the hell he was sorry for.

As he passed me, I caught his arm, leaning in close. "I'm here to keep him breathing, Barton—you're the one who's here to keep him breathing _hard._"

He narrowed his eyes. "Fuck off, cop." Jerking his arm free, he went over to the cabinet to help his friend, and I couldn't fail to notice the way his hand dropped to Maxwell's ass as he eased up beside him.

Good. Let him do what he was there for. And jealousy be damned. I had no right to be jealous anyway.

I mean—it was just lust, right—what happened between Duo and me? At least to him. And frankly, I had a feeling that as annoyed as he was with me, if I asked him for a repeat performance of the wild sex we'd had on the safe house floor, he'd still be only too happy to do it.

With anyone.

I stalked out into the living room and threw myself on the couch, hard. There was some program on the television where a crew of mechanics was making over a piece of shit car, and I found myself flicking through channels without even seeing what was on them.

I didn't look up as the two men passed through carrying plates and cups, and talking about Winner again, and how Trowa could, to quote Duo, "snag himself a fine piece of that ass," _or his_.

Why did Barton try to claim Maxwell was anything but promiscuous? That morning, he'd asked me if I thought Duo threw himself at just any guy that came along. Well, _hadn't_ he? He'd been hitting on me since I shoved him in the back of the squad car. He'd commented more than once on Winner's hotness. Hell, he'd even tried flirting with Wufei a time or two—until violence was threatened.

Even if there _were_ feelings involved on my part, and yeah, I know I'd pretty well admitted that much to myself by now, in spite of trying to cover it up for Barton—how could I ever be sure of his? And did I even want him to have feelings towards me beyond the obvious lust?

We both knew he wouldn't be staying after the trial, assuming we got that far. If I let myself get sucked in any deeper, it was going to tear me to pieces when he disappeared forever. Honestly, if he was angling for something more than lust between us, it was pretty cruel of him.

If he wasn't, then I was right and had been all along; he was a shameless exhibitionist and a compulsive slut.

The internal conflict was nearly killing me, as I wrestled with my thoughts, trying to get them lined up in some kind of order—so I could shoot them.

I kept seeing gestures between Barton and Maxwell that indicated a relationship consisting of more than animal magnetism, though there was plenty of that, too. And once again I felt that rush of jealousy at the casual intimacy between the braided man and his former lover. Hell—what was the point in saying "former?" With Merquise out of the picture, there was no reason Barton wouldn't get his "benefits" back—probably that night. I'd practically dared him to pick up where they left off.

I'd made sure he knew that's what I wanted. He could fuck Maxwell senseless, keep him sated and calm until the trial, and then send him off to seduce the next hapless fool he came across. Knowing his track record, that'd probably be his relocation contact person.

Damn it! I didn't _want _to be bothered by Maxwell's promiscuity. I didn't want it to matter. But it did.

Oh God, it did.

I hadn't been lying when I told Duo that I had to feel something beyond lust for my lovers. And while our frolic on the safe house floor had been triggered by adrenaline and testosterone, it still meant more to me than I wanted to admit.

And I found myself wishing I knew what it meant to him.

* * *

"Supper's ready," Winner said, leaning in the doorway to the deck.

I dropped the controller on the couch and stood. "I'll get Chang; he went out to walk the perimeter."

He gave a curt nod. "We'll be on the deck. Dinner's at the umbrella table. We can watch the sunset over the lake."

I shook my head. "And you called _Maxwell_ a sentimental sap?"

It took only a moment to call my partner in, and then we joined our three companions at the table. They'd set five places and pulled up chairs—and the fresh rice and vegetables were steaming in a bowl next to a platter of grilled, unshucked corn.

"You'll have to peel your own corn," Maxwell announced, turning from the grill with a serving dish piled with salmon fillets. "But it's worth it—leaving it in the husk holds in the flavor."

Chang looked a bit uneasy, choosing a seat between Winner and me, and I almost gave in to the impulse to smirk. He had doubts about my sexual orientation, I was sure, and sitting smack in the middle of a table of gays just had to make his skin crawl.

Frankly, if it did, it was no more than he deserved. I'd never been put off by heterosexual company—there was no reason for him to be so squeamish around gays.

Yeah, he'd been traumatized by one—having his girlfriend stolen that way—but it was no excuse now. Enough time had passed, and he'd met enough reputable homosexual men that he should have overcome his exaggerated prejudice long since.

_How about a little immersion therapy, eh Chang?_

We passed around the food, helping ourselves, and within minutes were digging in to the most delicious meal I think I'd ever had.

"Oh—," Winner moaned, closing his eyes and savoring the first bite he'd taken. "Duo, this is magnificent."

Maxwell hadn't taken the empty seat next to me. Instead he'd carried his plate to the chaise lounge next to the grill, and settled in comfortably, stretching his long legs out on the cushions. "Aw, thanks Quat. It's pretty easy to make, really."

"Don't sell yourself short," Trowa urged. "You did great, Shini."

He knew how that nickname bothered me, and flicked a mocking green gaze my way.

"You can pay me back later," Duo crooned, giving his friend a steamy look and a warm smile.

Barton glanced from me to Winner and back to Duo. "You're on," he said carelessly.

"Y'mean on _top_?" came the sly response.

Wufei choked on a bite of rice, and I occupied my hands by pounding on his back until he recovered.

"That was uncalled for," I said in a low, angry voice, glaring over at Maxwell, who was grinning unrepentantly.

"Not my fault the big, tough detective missed sex ed, Yuy. I can say what I want," Duo shot back.

Yeah, he was still royally pissed at what I'd said to Barton—at _me _in general. And I had a feeling he'd take it out on anyone who got in his way just then.

Quatre was frowning, looking warily around the table, and over at Maxwell. "Um, maybe certain subjects aren't really meant for the supper table, Duo," he said carefully, a faint blush on his fair skin.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're a fuckin' virgin too, counselor," he chided.

"I am _not _a—," Wufei blurted, before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut.

Duo gave him a sly look. "You dog, Wufei! Who was she?"

"None of your goddamned business!"

"Ah. So there _was _someone."

"Let it go!" I snapped, giving Maxwell a look that made most men cringe.

He met it steadily, opening his mouth for a snide comment, and then pausing, apparently catching on to the fact that I knew something he didn't about Chang's history. And in a move that reminded me of the time in the car he'd instinctively known not to touch Wufei's bicep, he backed off. "Jus' curious, Yuy," he muttered, holding out his wine glass for Trowa to refill it. "Fuck. A guy can't even make conversation any more."

"Wait'll the detectives get back to work," Barton said soothingly, topping off the glass and giving his lover a warm smirk. "You, me an' the counselor can find plenty to talk about."

Maxwell subsided into a rather sulky silence, accepting a reassuring smile from Winner in addition to Barton's.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you the latest from Captain Po?" Winner said tentatively.

"Yes!" Wufei and I exclaimed nearly in unison.

Quatre looked relieved. "First off, the case against Khushrenada is shaping up pretty well. They were able to recover a shoe print from the bloody rug, and it belonged to a very exclusive style of custom made Italian shoes…very expensive…and the maker has a record of selling a pair to Khushrenada last year."

Duo perked up appreciably. "So all they've gotta do is search his place and find a shoe with Zechs' blood on it."

"Yes—except they already tried, and didn't find the shoes."

"He got rid of them," Wufei guessed. "It makes sense."

"Only if he knew about the shoe print," Quatre disagreed. "They were five thousand dollar shoes."

Duo's jaw dropped. "Five grand?! Who the fuck pays five grand for shoes?"

"Treize Khushrenada," I said tightly.

"But—five _grand_?" Duo persisted. "Jesus. The orphanage could run for months on that kind of money. And Treize is wearin' it on his feet?" He looked so horrified at the concept that I felt a stab of pity, forgetting how annoying he'd been only moments earlier.

"More to the point," Quatre cut in. "He threw them away. At least that's all the investigators could conclude, since they weren't in his house, car, yacht, or limo…"

"We get the picture," I interrupted, still fascinated by the sick look on Duo's face.

"How would he know they'd found and identified a shoe print?" Barton asked, bringing up a question to which I was afraid I already knew the answer.

"Someone in forensics or on the investigative team must have leaked it," Wufei said, looking every bit as sick as Maxwell.

"Fucking cops!" Duo spat, shoving himself to his feet.

I'd known he was looking for an outlet for his anger, and I was sorry Chang gave it to him.

Barton caught his wrist. "Shhh—relax, Shini. You already knew you couldn't trust cops." He gave me a sharp look and a chilling smile as he said that.

Chang's hackles rose at once. "Just because there's a bad seed in the department—."

"Bad seed?" Barton shot back, meeting him glare for glare. "Try bad roots, stems and leaves!"

"We are not getting into this!" I snarled, still irked at the way Barton was provoking the situation. "If you don't trust us, Barton, feel free to leave."

"If I don't trust you, it's all the more reason to stay!"

"Chang and I have kept Maxwell alive just fine without your help!"

"Well whoopti-fuckin'-do, Yuy! What about tomorrow? Or next week? What about the next time someone in your department leaks your whereabouts? Are you gonna be able to protect him then?"

"You and Winner are the only ones who know our whereabouts!" I assured him. "Are _you_ planning to leak the information?"

"Fuck no!" he exploded. "And how dare you even ask?"

"Tro'—easy!" Duo said, turning to face his ex-lover and grab him by both hands. "It's okay! God, I can't believe you guys are bickering about who's gonna fuck me over! I know you won't, love. And neither will Yuy or Chang." He spared a wary glance at my partner. "Yeah—even Chang wouldn't sell me out. He's got too much of a sense of honor—responsibility. And he hates Khushrenada even more than he hates me." The indigo eyes flickered over me briefly. "Yuy just hates to lose. He'll keep me alive for braggin' rights, if nothing else."

Why was I surprised at the conviction in his words—especially after I was the one who put that idea into his head?

"Gentlemen—," Quatre cut into the tension with a calm, diplomatic tone. "I think we all can at least agree that Duo's survival is our main concern at the moment. Correct?"

Chang, Barton and I all nodded.

"Then please, let's just finish going over the case and enjoy our supper."

Barton reluctantly took his seat, looking down in surprise as Winner put a hand over his in a soothing gesture.

Meanwhile, Maxwell settled back into the chaise lounge, keeping his attention firmly affixed to his meal, as Quatre filled us in on the preliminary hearing results.

There wasn't really much to tell. Treize's team of attorneys had pushed for the surveillance vids from the penthouse building, and when told the tapes were useless, they tried to claim the police purposely destroyed them since they would have confirmed that Khushrenada never went near the place.

The District Attorney countered with the fact that there was an eyewitness, a bloody shoe print, and a business association that would net Khushrenada millions of dollars from the shared enterprises he stood to inherit. Ah, motive! While it could be argued that Merquise's perceived betrayal wasn't reason enough for Khushrenada to kill him, one certainly couldn't overlook financial gains. _That _was something a jury understood.

Winner also mentioned that the police had been unable to locate either Trant or Otto, the two accomplices Duo had named besides Une. She, of course, was out on bail along with Treize himself—both backing each other's story to the hilt.

"So, it's gonna be my word against theirs?" Duo asked, picking at his rice and looking a bit discouraged.

"More or less," admitted his attorney.

"That's why you'll need to try to project a positive image on the witness stand," Chang spoke up sternly. "You won't be able to swear, or make suggestive remarks, or act like anything less than a reputable gentleman." He caught himself sharply, slapping a hand over his face. "We are _so _fucked."

"No we are _not_," Winner disagreed. "For heaven's sake, Chang, give Duo some credit. He volunteers at an orphanage. He's gainfully employed. He no longer has any gang associations; nor does he use drugs. And his last arrest for anything serious was over a year ago."

"Uh huh," drawled my partner, giving Maxwell a scolding look. "Would you care to take a drug test right now, Maxwell? Marijuana can show up for weeks after you've smoked it, depending on the frequency and quantity."

Duo looked studiously at his plate, blushing a little. "Um, Quat—Yuy and Chang kind of confiscated my stash of pot back when we were on the road." He looked up through his bangs. "It was just an ounce or two—purely recreational."

"Well, fortunately, they won't be called to testify regarding your road trip," smirked the lawyer. "If they are on the stand at all, it will be to discuss the evidence in the case and tell the jury about the attempts on your life." His aquamarine eyes narrowed slightly. "However, don't even think about procuring more marijuana. You _will _need to pass a drug screening, if the DA demands one."

Maxwell sighed, glancing over at Barton. "Guess that kills our plans for a 'soak and a smoke.'" He grinned wickedly at Winner. "We were gonna hang out in the hot tub after dinner and maybe split a joint—try to mellow out a little."

Winner sighed deeply, glaring at Barton. "Get rid of it." He looked at Chang and me. "Forget you heard about it."

"Forgotten," I assured him. "Especially considering it would be in Barton's possession rather than Maxwell's."

My partner hesitated and then shrugged helplessly. "I suppose in the interest of convicting Khushrenada, I can forget hearing a passing admission—as long as the substance in question disappears _permanently_."

"I'll toss it in the lake right after dinner," Trowa offered with an apologetic smile at his ex-lover. "Feed it to the fishes."

Maxwell perked up appreciably, and looked over at me, a touch of defiance in his eyes. "It's okay if I take a walk down to the dock with him, right? You got all your fancy camera shit put in place."

"Yes, you can go that far," I relented, vague worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. "But just for a little while. It's seriously not good for you to be out in the open any more than necessary. This deck is barely acceptable."

"This deck is keeping me sane," he shot back with a scowl. "Remember what happened the last time I got cabin fever!"

I didn't know if he was talking about sneaking off to go clubbing, getting into a fistfight with me and stealing my gun, or coercing me into sex.

All right—I had to admit, there was very little coercion involved. It was more like persuasion—with a gun.

"There will be no repeat of last time," Chang said firmly. "No sneaking out, and definitely no clubbing. You'll have to find another way to alleviate your stress." His dark gaze shifted between Barton and Maxwell, and a look of distaste crossed his features.

Maxwell's gaze slid towards me and his pretty eyes narrowed. "Don't worry, Wu-bear. I'm an expert at stress relief. Just ask anyone I've ever fucked."

Chang looked expectantly at Barton, and I swallowed a curse. "Are we about finished discussing the case, Winner? It's Chang's turn to sleep for a few hours, and I'm going to be on watch."

"I think I've covered as much as Captain Po was able to share with me," Quatre replied. "I suspect there's additional forensic evidence, or the judge wouldn't have agreed to proceed to trial. But since I'm only Duo's lawyer, and not part of the defense or prosecution in this case, I'm not privy to all the information."

I'd finished my food by that time, and even helped myself to a second serving, amid the bickering and discussion. I was ready to step outside and do a quick night patrol, wanting a chance to clear my head with a walk in the fresh, cooling air.

But first—.

"The meal was great, Duo. Wufei and I will take care of the dishes." I stood up and began gathering empty plates, realizing after a moment that Maxwell was staring at me. "What?"

"You—never called me by my first name before," he said with a frown. "Not even—." He caught himself, turning away and shrugging nonchalantly. "Glad you liked it."

It took only moments for my partner and me to clean up the supper dishes, while Winner, Barton and Maxwell disposed of the empty wine bottles and gathered towels for their foray into the hot tub. I had a feeling clothing would become optional shortly.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Maxwell didn't even try to tease me about joining them.

_Right. As if using his first name once was going to win me any brownie points._ Maybe with Barton, it would—but I had a feeling Duo wasn't going to get over my earlier comments any time soon.

I mulled that over as I walked the area around the cottage, trying to ignore the laughter that floated up the hill from the lake as Maxwell and Barton traipsed down to the dock to get rid of the exotic dancer's contraband.

It sounded like they made an amusing project of it, and once again I envied their comfortable friendship. Why was it so hard for me to breach Maxwell's defenses? We'd had a few non-confrontational talks—and yet I still couldn't relax around him. And it was for damn sure he didn't relax around me.

The task of securing our borders kept me occupied enough that I eventually pushed my issues with Maxwell to the back of my mind. And, in fact, by the time I'd spent a couple of hours traipsing through the dark woods, I was fairly relaxed—ready to settle in at the laptop and simply keep watch through the night.

Yeah, no one was going to harm Maxwell on _my_ watch.

* * *

When I got back to the house, I decided to slip in through the basement, figuring I could check that entryway for security and accessibility. I didn't count on anyone else still being out and about.

I was leaning on the corner of the house, letting my eyes casually sweep the shadows under the deck for the slightest disturbance, when I heard a laugh and then a splash. So Maxwell had finally lured Barton to the hot tub.

_Fuck it anyway—none of my business!_

But God, it hurt, wondering what they might be up there doing. All I needed was to hear Duo's husky voice moan in ecstasy; talk about rubbing salt in an open wound!

Not wanting to be a voyeur, especially of whatever Maxwell and his lover might be up to, I turned to go around the front of the house to let myself back in.

Then I heard Winner's voice, and paused. "You really didn't know anything about it before you two met?" he was saying.

"Nope," Duo replied. "Tro' taught me everything."

"Wasn't hard," came Barton's quiet baritone. "You had the balance and agility for it. Just needed a little work on rhythm."

Yeah, Duo had rhythm all right…

"The toughest part was getting over the inhibitions," Duo added. "First time I tried, I was so fuckin' embarrassed I couldn't go through with it. Lucky it was just me an' Trowa practicing backstage."

"So how did you work up the nerve to do it?"

"First, Tro' had me watch him at work for a night." Duo chuckled warmly. "I had to slip into the bathroom three times to jerk off. God, he was hot!"

"Duo!" came Barton's embarrassed protest.

"Just tellin' it like it is," Maxwell said nonchalantly. "Right Quat? Isn't he drool-worthy?"

"Yes—very," came a prompt, fervent reply.

"Almost as drool-worthy as you are," crooned Duo.

What the fuck? Was he hitting on Winner or setting him up with Barton? It was getting hard to tell.

"Oh—th-thanks," came the stuttering response.

"Don't be shy, Blue Eyes," Duo purred. "You are one fine-looking legal eagle. If you ever wanted a night job at The Jungle, I'd be happy to teach you the ropes."

I could just imagine what kind of "ropes" he was talking about—probably the literal kind.

"Um, no Duo. I don't think the Bar Association would be pleased with my taking that kind of job on the side," chuckled Winner, regaining some of his composure.

"Uptight twits."

"Yes, but with the power to disbar me."

"Anyhow, the way Tro' got me past my shyness…" Duo paused for a wry chuckle. "He let me just strip for him at first…put on some soft music and talked me through it. After that, it was easy."

"Not exactly," chided Barton. "You _did_ chicken out the first time on stage."

"Yeah, well—if I hadn't recognized someone in the audience—."

All three of them laughed, and I tried to tear myself away; their conversation was none of my business. And yet, I couldn't help picturing a body-shy Duo Maxwell, unable to make himself strut around naked on a stage—and it was kind of—endearing.

Of course when I glanced back as I quietly padded up the lawn, and saw Duo nestled up against Trowa, his braid carefully laid over the taller man's shoulder and out of the hot tub so it wouldn't get soaked, that warm feeling immediately dissipated. Quatre was on Trowa's other side, though not nearly as close as Duo—and from the scattering of clothes across the deck, it wasn't hard to deduce that all three were naked.

Okay—so maybe I'd misjudged the lawyer. He obviously wasn't as shy or straight-laced as I'd thought.

But Barton had talked about a serious relationship with him—I was surprised he'd want to start it with a ménage a trois.

When the laughter subsided, Quatre started saying something about how sweet Trowa had been to help Duo into the job at The Jungle—about what a good friend he was.

"And—." Here his gaze flickered between the two. "No matter what—I never want to come between you."

Duo's laugh was throaty and low. "Aw, baby," he crooned. "You _between_ us? That could be _so_ hot! Fuck—you could do me while Tro' does you…" He moved around Barton so that he was apparently straddling Quatre's lap, running slim fingers back through the soft blonde hair.

I don't know if Winner blushed, but I know I did. And I was reacting in other ways I just didn't even want to think of.

"Shini, you're making him blush," chided Barton, his voice just as seductively low.

"I could make him do a lot more than that," came the teasing reply. "Couldn't I, Quat?"

"Fuck yes," came a breathless reply.

Jesus fucking Christ—he _was_ hitting on Winner. And he was making progress, too. I couldn't listen any more—I turned sharply and stalked towards the corner of the house, heading for the front entrance to let myself back in where I wouldn't have to listen to the seduction.

I barely heard the murmur of the voices as I glanced back—Maxwell saying something about Barton—and Winner responding with a hopeful and disbelieving look at the auburn-haired man.

And Trowa just smiled and tugged at Duo's braid. "You talk too much, love."

_No shit._

"Well then screw talking," he said in a honey-rich voice, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Quatre's cheek, and a slightly less chaste one on Trowa's lips. "Sometimes ya gotta let your actions do the talking." He fondly ruffled Barton's hair before turning a warm gaze back to Winner.

I was glad I didn't have to listen to or see more, as I turned the corner and went completely out of earshot. But I fumed at the thought of Maxwell and Barton dragging the lawyer into some sort of three-way relationship. Or worse yet, Maxwell stealing Winner right out from under someone he called his best friend. How low could he get?

When I settled back in at the laptop, relieved that I couldn't hear the conversation outside the closed doors, it took all my willpower to force myself to focus on my work. I didn't even want to think about what was going on in that roomy hot tub.

I'd been right all along…Maxwell was just after the most convenient fuck he could find. But the realization left me feeling strangely hollow—and a bit lost. I guess I _had_ wanted our "moment" to mean something to him.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Maxwell walked in the door, a towel slung carelessly around his waist, and headed for the kitchen.

I ignored him and kept scrolling through my security feeds, determined not to let him see a reaction. But when he came out seconds later with a bottle of water in hand, turning towards the stairs, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?" I muttered as he passed.

He turned a questioning look to me.

"Hitting on Winner," I clarified. "That's pretty low, considering you know your buddy's interested in him."

The indigo eyes flashed with anger. "If I was hitting on him, we'd be in bed right now," he said cockily.

"Not if the way he was looking at Barton yesterday was any indication."

Maxwell leaned back against the stair rail, smirking snidely. "If I wanted him, Yuy, I'd have him."

"Well you were sitting in his lap naked, Maxwell. Sure looked to me like you wanted him."

"You know who I want."

"I don't know a fucking thing!" I snapped, glaring up at him.

"Aw, c'mon," he growled, letting out an exasperated breath. "I made it plenty clear, Yuy. You want me, you can have me. Consider it a bonus—you get a witness, brownie points with your boss, and a piece of ass on the side!" His face was flushed with emotion by this time, eyes alight with anger. "Since all I am to you is your ticket to a promotion, why d'you keep pushing me away? You can have it all. No strings attached."

I shoved my chair back from the computer, and stood up. "You expect me to just fuck you and throw you away?"

"Well why not?"

"Because that's not the way I am!" I snapped. "I can't play the games you do!"

"You think this is a game—that _you're_ a game?"

"Everything's a game to you, Maxwell. You're playing with Winner…Barton…me…and even Chang. Do you even _know_ what you want? Because you're not making it clear at all. After your little heart to heart with Barton this morning, I'd have thought you considered Winner off limits. But there you were, all over him." I gestured to the monitor, and caught the sudden flicker of a question in Maxwell's eyes.

He walked over and looked down at the screen, which currently was focused on four views, one of which was the deck.

"You were _watching_?" he demanded.

I couldn't tell if he was angry or intrigued. "That's kind of the point of surveillance," I said dryly.

"Watching three naked guys get it on in a hot tub is part of your job?" he scoffed, but I could tell he wasn't completely furious.

"So you _were_ trying to seduce Winner." I shook my head. "Some fuckin' friend you are. Barton bares his soul—tells you he's genuinely interested in Winner—and you go right for the throat. Or should I say _dick_?"

"Like I said, if that's what I wanted, I'd have it." He gestured to the screen. "Does it look like a threesome out there?"

I looked down at the screen and my breath caught in my throat. Winner was facing Barton, kissing him, and judging from their position, and the way he was working himself up and down… _Fuck!_

I could feel the heat rush to my face at the same moment Maxwell gave a low chuckle. "Hot _damn_," he murmured. "I knew I was goading Tro' into making a move—but I never dreamed he'd make it that fast. Way to go, lover."

"You—aren't you—?" I shook my head, looking helplessly at the braided man. His gaze was still fixed on the monitor, his lips slightly parted and a feral gleam in his eyes. "You're not jealous? And what do you mean 'goading'?"

He flicked a glance my way, narrowing the beautiful eyes. "I mean, if you got your head out of your ass, you'd have seen I was just playing. I wanted Trowa to get past all his insecurities and admit to Quatre that he was interested. But he's not the aggressive type. He's strong, and quiet, and confident—but not daring. He needed a little incentive. And if he thought Quat might be getting interested in me, I figured it'd push him into action." A slow, sensuous smile spread across those perfect lips. "An' that's some first-class action goin' on there."

He lifted a frank gaze to me. "How 'bout you? Does it turn you on—watching?" He licked his lips, waiting for an answer.

I opened my mouth for a cutting reply, but nothing came out. Fuck watching Winner and Barton! I was imagining myself in that hot tub, with Duo on my lap, and I think I was actually trembling with the effort it took to keep from grabbing him and devouring him on the spot. "I—have to go." I stepped around him and grabbed a flashlight, practically running out the door to find a place to hide in the darkness.

Fuck it anyway! Why couldn't I control the attraction I felt for him? Why was he so completely under my skin? And why the _hell _was I fighting it so hard anyway?


	30. Midnight Confessions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty: Midnight Confessions

Even stalking through the darkness didn't erase the image of Duo's parted lips and gleaming eyes. As right as he was that catching an eyeful of Winner and Barton in the hot tub turned me on, he had no idea that it was the feral light in his own indigo eyes that set my blood on fire.

I don't even know how long I walked, using the feeble light of the flashlight to randomly inspect some of my motion sensors along the logging road. My mind was far too busy wondering whether Duo had rejoined his friends in the hot tub by now, and started that aforementioned threesome after all.

Was I doomed to be jealous of Winner, too? It seemed that anyone who saw Duo ended up wanting him…probably _having _him.

How had Merquise tolerated the blatant sensuality of his lover?

Oh—he'd been fucking him. Yeah, that would explain it. He hadn't been forced to hold back and try to resist the temptation while watching others indulge. He'd gotten to taste those lips…that skin…any time he wanted. He'd slept next to that lean, muscular body and buried his face in the long, silky hair.

I fucking hated him.

In fact, I sort of wished I could dig up his body and kill him again, just to pay him back for what a lucky bastard he'd been to have Duo Maxwell share his bed.

Not that I couldn't have him share mine. He'd said as much…repeatedly. He couldn't have laid it out any more plainly. I could walk right back into that house and grab him and make love to him, and he'd let me. Hell, he'd encourage me.

All that beauty and fire and passion could be mine.

At least until he got bored, or ended up in the relocation program—whichever came first.

That last thought gave me a dash of cold reality that helped clear my head just a bit. Yes, I could admit I wanted Maxwell, badly. But that didn't change the fact that what I wanted was more than he could give.

So that begged the question…could he learn to give more, or could I learn to want less? Which one of us could make the necessary compromise?

By the time I turned my footsteps back towards the cottage, I expected everyone to be asleep. It was, after all, near midnight.

I was surprised to see the sliding door open and hear Winner and Barton's voices still out on the deck. But I wasn't foolish enough to venture out there. I headed for the kitchen instead, wondering if Maxwell had gone up to bed alone, and whether Barton would be joining him tonight—only to be stopped by Winner's voice behind me.

"Heero—still hard at work?"

I looked back to see him standing in the doorway to the deck, a towel wrapped around his midsection.

"It's my shift," I said simply. "I've checked outside, so I'll just settle in at the laptop to monitor the cameras for the rest of the night."

"All work and no play," Barton chided, sliding up behind Quatre and slipping an arm around his waist. "You detectives are a dull bunch, aren't you?"

"Look—just because I'm not into group sex and exhibitionism—." My would-be tirade was cut off by a noise from upstairs.

The resounding yell surprised us all…Winner, Barton _and_ me. And it would be a miracle if it didn't wake Chang, considering it came from Duo's bedroom, which was next to his.

I raced for the stairs, gun drawn, nearly colliding with Barton, who had a towel clutched loosely around his hips. He made the top of the stairs before me and pelted down the hall to Duo's room, flinging the door open and diving onto the bed.

"It's okay, Shini! Shh!" he soothed urgently, pulling Duo into his arms.

Duo struggled for a moment, gasping and squirming, while Barton rocked him and murmured reassurances.

"Just a dream, love. It's just a dream! C'mon—wake up and see, everything's okay."

Drawing a deep, harsh breath, Duo finally opened his eyes, blinking dazedly and looking around at Barton, me, Winner—and Chang, who had arrived only an instant behind the rest of us, sleep-mussed and shirtless.

"Oh fuck," he rasped, blushing and hiding his face against Barton's shoulder. "Make 'em go."

Barton jerked his head at us, sliding under the covers with Duo and pulling him closer. "They're going, love. It's just you an' me."

I hated the husky warmth of his voice as I pushed past Chang into the hallway. Winner and he followed, closing the door behind us.

"What the fuck just happened?" Chang demanded.

I looked at Quatre for help.

"Duo mentioned earlier that he hadn't been sleeping well," explained the attorney. "I guess—well, from what he and Trowa both said, he kind of has a history of nightmares. Between his childhood on the streets, losing his friends in that warehouse fire, and now Zechs' murder, he's got a lot of fodder for bad dreams, you know."

I could imagine.

"Now that you mention it," Wufei said thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever seen him sleep through a whole night. He naps a bit; but more often than not, when I've checked up on him, he's been reading or drawing or listening to music."

I nodded agreement. "I think the only time he didn't seem restless while sleeping was in the car, or when he's napped on the couch of whatever place we've been." But then, he'd never woken up screaming before. I looked at Winner with a frown. "Why didn't he say something?"

"To you?" countered the lawyer with a rather snide look in the aquamarine eyes. "C'mon, Yuy, he's got his pride."

"And he hates cops."

"He mistrusts them—most of them," came the very diplomatic response. "But not you two. You heard him earlier. You're probably the only police on the face of the Earth that he believes in." He gave me a knowing look. "That's something special—that you earned his trust."

Wufei looked uncomfortable, a pensive scowl settling on his forehead. "I've done nothing to garner trust from him, counselor. I've merely done my job."

"Funny—he mentioned something about you taking care of his feet when he'd hurt them hiking."

"Jesus Christ, what did you three talk about all day?" I demanded, uncomfortable as hell at what they might have shared.

Quatre shrugged, and I suddenly realized he was still clad the same way Barton had been—in a towel and nothing else. My gaze drifted to my shirtless partner, and then dropped to the floor. "I'm going back down to check the surveillance," I said brusquely. I spared a glance at the closed bedroom door behind us. "I'm sure Barton's got everything well in hand."

Chang's derisive snort told me his mind had fallen into the same gutter mine did, and I walked away without looking at him or Winner.

But I'd no sooner settled at the computer again than Quatre strolled through the living room, giving me a smile in passing. "Might as well fetch my clothes," he said with a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Hn," I acknowledged vaguely, staring at the computer screen, though my mind wasn't on it at all. In fact, my mind was on Duo, and the fact that he and Barton were in bed together.

Quatre had gathered the scattered garments and was headed back towards the steps when I couldn't help but speak up. "Winner?"

"Yes?" He stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaning on the post and fixing me with a curious look.

"It doesn't bother you—the way they touch, and kiss?" I shook my head. "Hell, even the way they _look _at each other is like a caress."

Winner sighed, crossing his arms with their bundle of clothes. "I know on the surface, it looks—sexual, Yuy. But it's not." He fixed an astute blue gaze on me. "One of the things that makes me such an effective lawyer is my ability to assess other people's feelings. I have a kind of intuition—empathy, if you will. How do you think I know you've been attracted to Duo from the very start of all this?"

I don't know what he gleaned from the expression on my face, but he smiled almost gently. "Don't sweat it, detective. Your secret's safe with me."

"I don't have any secret," I said quickly, defensively.

"Sure you do," he countered with a knowing smirk. "You _care_."

"Of course—about this case—," I stammered.

"—about Duo," he added quietly. He searched my face for a long moment. "Don't worry. He cares, too. More than you'd think."

"This isn't about Duo and me…" It was _supposed _to be about Winner and Barton.

"So you want to know if I'm jealous of how close Duo and Trowa still are?" he asked bluntly. "No, detective. I'm not."

"And if they're fucking?" _Right this minute—right above our heads?_

"They're not. In spite of what you might think, both Duo and Trowa want more out of a relationship than sex. For them, sex is more recreational than emotional…at least when it's between them. But outside of that, they both want to find someone special. Someone to be just theirs. Like Zechs was to Duo." He pinned me with a stern glare. "Do you really think someone like Zechs Merquise would have been sharing Duo with anyone else? Hell, he made Duo quit The Jungle because he couldn't stand to have other guys looking at his body. Do you think he'd have tolerated someone _touching _it?"

"If he didn't know—."

"He knew everything," Quatre assured me. "He was a crime lord, Yuy. It was his business to know what his people were doing—what his lover was doing."

"He didn't know Khushrenada was coming for him," I pointed out.

"I know," agreed the attorney. "Which is why I believe Duo when he says Merquise never went to the cops. If Merquise _had _betrayed Khushrenada, wouldn't he have expected retribution?"

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't think he met with the police—so it means that Khushrenada was mistaken."

"How would he make a mistake like that?" I shook my head. "You think someone from the department set Merquise up to look like a traitor?"

"No, Merquise was too savvy for that," Winner mused. "But _something_ made Khushrenada jump to the wrong conclusion. I wonder what it was."

_What indeed! _Somehow Merquise must have said or done something, or gone somewhere that made his boss suspicious. I was afraid we wouldn't have answers until the trial—and maybe not even then. There was no certainty Treize would take the stand at all, in which case we'd be left interviewing others to try to find out the motivation behind the killing.

And how the heck had we ended up on that tangent when we were supposed to be talking about Duo and Trowa's relationship?

"I suppose it'll all come out in the trial, if we're lucky," I said, shrugging off the troubling questions. "And if we manage to get Maxwell there alive."

"I have every faith in you," the lawyer said firmly. "Plus, Trowa and I thought up a couple of contingency plans I didn't want to discuss in front of Duo. Perhaps tomorrow you could join the two of us for a boat ride on the lake, and we could talk."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Contingencies?"

He gave a wide, guileless smile. "One can never have too many, Heero."

A man after my own heart. I smiled back. "Not in this situation," I agreed. "I'll be happy to go along and find out what you two cooked up. Plus, I can set some cameras up across the lake to provide long-range monitoring."

"See you at breakfast then," he replied, heading off to bed.

I watched him go, wondering how he could be so free of suspicion where Maxwell and Barton were concerned. I mean, shit—they were naked in bed together—both good-looking and sensual by nature. How could they _not _be having sex?

* * *

I was able to occupy myself with work—as usual. Hey, it was a pattern I'd established years earlier, and there was no reason to change it now. Work had always been my escape from troubling thoughts and irrational urges. Granted it wasn't foolproof, as my lapse in sanity on the floor of the log cabin would attest. But it usually helped me pass the time and keep a tight rein on my wandering thoughts.

In this case, it kept me occupied until the small hours of the morning, when I needed to use the bathroom, and decided an interior security sweep was a good idea. On top of that, I needed to get my circulation going again, after a long time at the computer.

All was quiet as I made my way through the house, checking the downstairs, and then heading up to the bathroom.

And afterwards, I walked the hallway, trying to tell myself it was just part of the job. I found myself pausing outside Duo's door, wondering what he and Trowa were doing on the other side of that closed door. And I felt the all too familiar upwelling of jealousy.

Damn it anyway!

When I heard footsteps crossing the floor behind the door, I barely had time to pull myself away and pretend I'd been passing by, before the door swung open.

Trowa stopped, blinking in the faint light of the hallway. "Oh, hey." He was wearing only boxers, and of course didn't seem the least bit self-conscious of the fading leopard markings on his arms and legs—or of anything else.

I nodded a greeting, unsure of what to say. I didn't feel the need to offer an explanation for my presence in that hallway. I was, after all, guarding my witness.

Trowa jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. "I was just—y'know."

"Go right ahead," I suggested, startling myself with the coolness of my tone.

He gave me a funny look, and then just shrugged and went on his way.

As he passed, I couldn't help taking a surreptitious breath of air, wondering if he'd smell of sweat and sex. But aside from the residual scent of the chlorine from the hot tub, there was nothing. Feeling a bit foolish, I finished my inspection of the upstairs and headed down to the living room to check my surveillance.

I'd just settled at the laptop when I heard a soft whisper of sound behind me as Trowa came into the room.

"Mind if I make some tea or something?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Cupboard to the right of the sink."

"Thanks."

While he puttered about the kitchen, I checked each bug I'd set and every mini-camera. Nothing had caused so much as a suspicious flicker, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Want a cup?"

I started slightly at the sound of Trowa's voice at the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh—sure. Thanks," I mumbled awkwardly.

He came out with two cups in hand. "Do you take honey or sugar in yours?"

I shook my head.

He smirked a little as he set a cup in front of me and walked over by the bay window, stirring his own cup. "Duo got me hooked on honey in my tea," he said conversationally, pulling up a chair and setting his tea on the coffee table.

Why did that innocent statement make me wonder what else they might have done with honey? I gave a noncommittal grunt.

He took a sip, glancing curiously at the laptop. "You've got a pretty good setup there."

"I can watch the road in here—every angle of the outside of the house—and every possible entry point." I looked up, meeting the green eyes squarely. "I plan to get him to the courthouse alive."

"That's good to know." He was silent for a moment, sipping his tea. And then he cleared his throat. "Look—earlier—I didn't mean to imply you and your partner weren't capable. Okay? You both seem very—competent."

"We are. Hopefully competent enough."

"And—before, when I was pushing you about Duo—I didn't mean for him to hear you say he was nothing but a bargaining chip in your career. I know you didn't really mean that."

"Tell him that," I said shortly, still irritated at how that conversation had transpired.

"I did." He shrugged. "Not that he believed me, really. But I think it's hard for him to see that there's _something _between you two."

"There's not," I growled, feeling every defensive reflex I had kicking in.

"So you keep saying. But it feels more like you're trying to convince yourself than me."

"I say it because it's true." I glared hard at Barton. "If you ask me…it looks a lot more like there's something between _you_ and him. And now that Merquise is out of the way…"

"Don't even go there!" he said sharply, cutting me off. "If we wanted to be a couple, we would've been a long time ago."

"News flash, leopard-boy. You are!"

Trowa gave a nasty grin. "Hate to burst your bubble, but you go saying things like that in front of Quatre, and he might take it badly—seeing as we're dating."

_Was __that__ what he called their romp in the hot tub?_

"And he's okay with you fucking Duo in your spare time?"

"I'm _not _fucking him!" he said hotly. Then his expression turned sly. "Not right this minute, anyway, or I wouldn't be down here trying to talk sense to an idiot like you!"

"You're wasting your time. There's nothing for us to talk about."

"Sure there is. There's Duo. We both care about him, don't we?"

Well that question took me completely by surprise, and I scowled in reflex. "I care very much about protecting his life," I said stiffly.

"That's not what I asked you."

I decided to play dumb. "Oh?"

"Do you care about _him_?"

"What business is it of yours?"

He gave a cagey smile. "Obviously I _do_ care about him."

"You fuck him—that's a far cry from—."

Trowa pushed back from the table, his chair legs screeching across the floor. And then he was leaning over me with a deadly expression on his face. "_I _fuck him, Yuy? _I _do? What about what _you _did?"

"And who started _that_?" I demanded.

"He may have started it, but you sure as hell finished it, didn't you?" he shot back. "You took what he offered willingly enough, and then ran like hell! You pushed him away, brushed him off…made him feel like his touch sickened you!"

"I was afraid, okay?" I snapped before I could stop myself. Then I drew a deep, shaky breath. "I was afraid," I repeated quietly.

"Of what?" he asked softly.

"Of—how good it felt—how good _he _felt. And how much I still wanted him…_all _of him. Jesus, Barton, do you know how badly I screwed up getting emotionally involved? And how hard it's been to try to get some perspective back? Now you want me to do _what_—pick up where I left off? Impossible!"

"Anything's possible."

"Don't make me think about this right now," I pleaded, putting a hand to my forehead and rubbing at the tension above my eyes. "If I lose my focus, my concentration, he could end up dead. Do you understand that? I need to stay focused on security; I can't be daydreaming about what might have been."

"You mean _could _be," he insisted. "Give it half a chance. You've got Quatre and me here to take up the slack. You can afford a moment of weakness, you know." A trace of a smile curled his lips. "Actually, let me rephrase that—a moment of strength. It takes a stronger person to let feelings in, than to keep them locked out."

"What did you and Maxwell do, take a philosophy course together?" I asked snidely.

"Ah—he gave you the 'value of a moment' speech, eh?"

I blinked. "He's used it before?"

Barton shrugged. "More or less—it's how he lives. He's had so much shit happen in his life, he had to either learn to grab any good moments he found, or miss out on everything. And he's not stupid." Green eyes fixed me with a stern gaze. "Don't ever think he's stupid."

"I don't. I never did. Not from the moment I dragged him into interrogation." I found a small, wistful smile on my lips as I remembered the brassy image he'd projected. Not that it was all just a front—he was as tough as nails when he needed to be. But I knew how much more there was to him now.

"Then don't think for a moment he doesn't know what he's getting into with you. He knows what he stands to lose when he has to leave."

I didn't want to think about that. I'd already dwelt on Maxwell's eventual departure enough for one day. "Maybe he's used to loss," I said gruffly. "But I'm not. And don't give me a line of crap about 'better to have loved and lost' either!" I glared defiantly at the dancer.

"Naw, I don't buy into that shit," grinned the dancer. "I kind of like to think anything's possible if it matters enough."

"Oh? Is that why it took you so long to make a move on Winner?"

He gave a little shrug. "I needed to hear Duo say he thought I had a chance and that he wanted me to go for it."

"And if he'd said not to? Would you have given up Quatre for him?"

"I might've," he said frankly. "Before tonight. But now, I wouldn't give him up for anyone." The green eyes fixed a level gaze on me. "Fortunately, I know Duo would never ask me to. I can't really explain what we are to each other, Yuy. More than brothers; but less than soulmates. The one thing I count on in this world, is that my happiness means more to him than his own, and vice versa."

"Then why are you telling me to get closer to him?" I asked in a near-whisper. "It will only hurt him."

"But it's what he wants."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because just now when he was falling back to sleep, it wasn't my name he whispered," he replied, the green eyes searching mine.

I felt a twist in my gut. Hope? Why the fuck did hearing him say that make my stomach flutter with anticipation?

"And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?" I asked.

"Just—give it a chance. Give _him_ a chance."

I knew in that instant that I wanted to. I wanted to touch Duo again—to wrap an arm around him—to feel the silken hair slide through my fingers.

But the image of him curled up against Barton's chest forced its way into my mind and nearly stole my breath away. I knew one thing for damn sure; if I let myself admit what I felt for Duo, I couldn't share him with someone else.

I looked searchingly at Barton. "Are you serious about you and Quatre? You're—exclusive?"

"Very much so," he said with a warm smile that made me begin to see why Duo found his presence so soothing. "And even if we weren't, I'd never come between Duo and someone important to him."

"I'm not—."

"Don't sell yourself short," he interrupted. "I've seen Duo turn down dozens of offers in a single night; he could have pretty much anyone he wanted. But as long as I've known him, in spite of all his flirting and making out, there's only been me, Zechs, and you that were invited to share his bed."

"He hit on Chang," I pointed out, afraid to hope the promiscuity was as much of an act as the rest had been.

"Sure. Chang's hot—and uptight. That's an open invitation to Duo. He could hardly resist the chance to stir things up." He shook his head slightly. "But that's all it was…just some harmless fun."

"And taking my gun? What was that?"

"That was desperation. He'd wanted you so badly for so long…" Barton stopped short, as if he'd inadvertently blurted out something told to him in confidence.

"He said—it was just to help pass the time."

"He said what you wanted to hear…what you _expected _to hear." The slender man shrugged. "He's got his pride too, you know."

So that had been for my benefit? The casual "told you it'd help pass the time" thrown over his shoulder as he dressed was nothing more than a brave front to hide the fact that the sex had been more than a moment of madness?

I was having trouble getting my head around everything Trowa was trying to tell me.

"Look—Barton—I can't promise anything," I said wearily, finishing my tea and setting the cup down. "I—care—for whatever that's worth. And in another situation, I probably wouldn't hesitate to—explore the possibilities. But don't ask me to risk his life for the sake of his feelings."

"I'm the last person who'd want you to make a mistake that got Duo hurt or killed," he said quickly, firmly. "I'm just suggesting you stop trying to hide the fact that you care so completely. I know you've got a partner to contend with, and a job to do. But would it kill you to just let down your guard enough for Duo to know _why _you're so protective of him?"

"Maybe not," I conceded. "I'll try to be less—stern," I offered. "I think Duo already guesses that there's a lot I'm not admitting. I'll try not to be afraid to let him know, okay?"

"Yeah—very okay," Trowa said, a faint smile curling his lips. He straightened, wriggling his shoulders to loosen them, and walking back over to where he'd left his tea, picking it up and finishing it off. "I'm glad we had this talk," he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at me as he headed for the kitchen to put the cup away.

I didn't answer—not at all sure I was glad at having admitted so much—agreed to so much. I was supposed to let down my guard with Duo? And what was to keep him from taking advantage of that vulnerability?

Maxwell may have had trust issues; but my own were no less deeply-ingrained. It seemed we'd both have plenty to overcome.

As Barton came out of the kitchen, Wufei pattered down the stairs, looking a bit weary, but composed. "Yuy." His dark eyes slid to the auburn-haired man. "Barton." He gave a curt nod and a rather snide smile, but I could tell he bit back a sarcastic comment.

Barton knew it too. He met the dark gaze steadily. "Well, guess I'll get back upstairs," he drawled, smirking suggestively. "Now that I quenched _one _kind of thirst—." He brushed past Chang, who deftly stepped aside, giving him extra room to pass.

Amazingly I didn't feel a rush of jealousy; I knew Barton was just baiting my partner. He knew the man's weaknesses every bit as well as Duo did.

"Aren't you going to say how scandalous their behavior is?" I asked conversationally, doing a little baiting of my own.

"What good would it do?" he sighed, shaking his head, and walking over to stand beside me looking down at the monitor. "All quiet?"

"Blessedly silent and still," I said with great relief.

He nodded in satisfaction. "I'll grab a cup of tea, and you can grab some sleep."

"I think maybe I can," I agreed. "Now that I feel reasonably secure."

He was almost to the kitchen door when I recalled the plans I'd made with Winner and Barton for the next morning. "Oh, Chang—one more thing. Winner offered to take me across the lake by boat in the morning, to set up surveillance on the other side. Can I rely on you to stay with Maxwell and refrain from drowning him in the hot tub?"

He paused, turning to face me. "What about Barton? Isn't babysitting Maxwell his department?"

"He's coming with us. Apparently he and Winner have cooked up some scheme in case we're located again. They wanted to share the information with me—out of Maxwell's ear shot."

My partner's face darkened. "You intend to leave me alone with Maxwell? For how long?"

"All day," I said carefully, watching his face for signs of a breakdown.

But after a long moment, he merely ducked his head and nodded. "Very well."

"That's it?"

"That's what?"

"That's all you're going to say? No arguments? No protests? Just 'very well'?"

"I see no alternative—unless you'd like to send me with Winner and Barton. And since I don't know the surveillance equipment like you do, it would be foolish for me to try to install it."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you being so—agreeable?"

"Because I've analyzed my behavior from the start of this assignment," he said frankly, raising a troubled look to my face. "And I've been almost as immature as Maxwell at times. Knowing that he told Winner about the foot bath…and that he's plagued with nightmares…" He shook his head. "Hearing things like that made me realize I'd been so angry about his phone call and the trouble it caused that I'd forgotten he was an exceptionally good sport during the journey here. Honestly, before we learned of the call, I was beginning to find him almost—tolerable. And—I think I need to try again to see that side of him."

"You mean the side of him that forgave you for joking about child molesters?"

He nodded. "Exactly." He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. "Let it not be said that some street punk could outclass a Chang!"

Oh, but he had—on more than one occasion. And by the look on my partner's face, he knew it too.

I couldn't help the smile that found its way to my lips. "I'm—impressed," I admitted. "You've certainly opened your mind on this trip, haven't you?"

"Not that I had much of a choice—but yes," he conceded. "And I apologize for what you've had to put up with as well," he added, leaving me wondering exactly what he was referring to.

Did he mean Maxwell's behavior, or his own? Or had he guessed my sexual orientation and realized how harsh his comments had been? For all I knew, he was just talking about the constant bickering between him and our witness.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I told him frankly. "But I accept your apology and extend one of my own. We've certainly had our share of ups and downs on this assignment."

"That we have. But I think, perhaps, we'll do better from now on." Giving a curt nod, he turned and went into the kitchen, signaling the end of the conversation.

I just shook my head, standing and stretching—and then I padded over to the window watching the moonlight reflect off the surface of the lake and wishing once again that I'd remembered to tell Duo about the loon. Maybe in the morning there'd be time.

Chang came out with his tea, settling comfortably at the computer, and I proceeded up the stairs, yawning as the long day's stress caught up with me. Of course, I passed Maxwell's room on the way to mine, and found a wide grin creeping across my face as I saw the door Barton had conspicuously left ajar.

Maybe that talk had been worth it after all. Even though my quick glance inside revealed that Duo was comfortably nestled against Trowa's side, I no longer jumped to the conclusion that there was more to the scene than met the eye.

Okay—Barton was holding up his end of the bargain. I guessed that meant I'd have to hold up mine—starting the first thing in the morning.


	31. Rocking the Boat

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty One: Rocking the Boat

"So how come I can't go?" Duo was saying, rather petulantly the next morning over breakfast.

"There's no security for you out in the middle of the lake," I pointed out, gathering surveillance gear to place at strategic points around the shore. "Once I have the cameras in place, Winner and Barton can take you out with them."

"Why can't Chang go with them and _you _stay here?"

"Chang doesn't know how to set up my gear. It's not exactly department issued."

Duo's eyes narrowed. "Spy stuff, Yuy? Just who the fuck are you anyway?"

I sighed deeply. "I'm Detective Heero Yuy. Nothing more."

"Detectives don't have sophisticated shit like that," he pointed out.

"Well, I do."

Maxwell shoved his bowl of cereal away, scowling deeply. "If you're such hot shit, how come you can't protect me on one silly boat ride, hm?"

"He said you can go another time," Quatre reminded him. "I think it's wise to let him put precautions in place."

"Besides," Wufei cut in. "You can't swim, Maxwell. If you go overboard, what will keep you from sinking to the bottom of the lake like a rock?"

"A life jacket," Trowa said blandly, reaching over to push Duo's food back in front of him.

"Yeah!" Duo agreed. "And Tro' and Quat won't let me drown anyway. Not like you two pricks waiting forever to haul me out of that river!"

"It was ten fucking seconds," I said impatiently.

"Ten of the longest seconds of my life," he retorted. His expression turned pleading. "Yuy, don't leave me here with _him_–please!"

My partner looked affronted. "Maxwell, I don't bite, for Heaven's sake! You'll be fine here with me for a few hours."

"I'll be bored out of my mind." Duo took a reluctant bite of his cereal and got an encouraging smile from Trowa.

"You can—sketch," Wufei suggested. "And I'll let you watch whatever garbage you want on television." He looked at me and rolled his eyes. "God, Yuy! I sound like I'm bargaining with a five year old."

The indigo eyes flashed at the unfavorable comparison. "Yeah, well, I feel like _I'm_ bargaining with a fucking parole officer." He looked at Winner pleadingly. "C'mon, Quat—."

"Sorry Duo. I have to side with Yuy and Chang on this one."

Maxwell got up in a huff and stalked up the stairs to his room, slamming the door resoundingly.

"Well, that went well," Quatre sighed.

"Maybe I should stay here," Barton offered.

"No!" Winner protested vehemently. "I really want to show you the lake, Trowa. It's such pretty scenery. And then maybe we can go canoeing by moonlight some night." His hand crept over so their fingers were nearly touching across the table.

"But if Duo's upset—."

"Maxwell's just being petulant again," Wufei assured him, his dark gaze shifting uneasily away from their hands. "After his unsettled night, he's probably overtired. You needn't worry about him. I promise to be at my most tolerant today."

"You _do _sound like you're talking about a five year old," I had to point out. "Seriously. He's just overtired?"

"You won't get far treating him like a child," Barton said darkly. "For fuck's sake, Chang, he's been through gang wars and street fights—don't belittle him like that!"

Wufei nodded. "You have a point," he conceded. "I'll try to give him the opportunity to demonstrate his—maturity."

"How d'you plan to do that?" I asked with a smirk.

"I thought I might see if he wanted to learn some meditation techniques," he said with a shrug. "It might help with the nightmares—or at least the fatigue."

"You're gonna teach him to meditate?" asked Quatre.

Chang nodded.

Trowa gave a wry chuckle. "Fuck, detective, if you just let him have a joint or two he'd mellow out more than all the meditation in the world would make him do."

"No pot!" I growled quickly, heading off Chang's tirade.

But amazingly he just shrugged. "We've nothing of the sort here, Barton, as you know. Dare we trust that you got rid of all that _you _brought?"

"Of course. Quatre said to, and Duo and I did," replied the stripper.

Chang gave a curt nod. "Even if we did have any, it would be illegal and hypocritical of me to offer it to him. Besides, I can teach him to relax without it…and without sex, for that matter."

Barton laughed aloud. "Duo? Without sex?" He shook his head, bemused. "What a waste that'd be!"

_Amen to that!_

"He survived without it until _you _got here," Chang pointed out, in his ignorance.

Trowa gave him a stern, narrow-eyed look. "I didn't fuck him last night, Chang. Or the night before. I'm his friend—not that it's any of your business." His glance slid towards Winner as if to acknowledge that it was _his _business.

"Is that what you call it?" Wufei said with a trace of a sneer. "The way you peeled off his clothes the other night…well can you blame me for expecting you to finish what you started?"

I shook my head, dismissing the entire conversation. While secretly relieved that my partner seemed totally unaware of the fact that something had happened between Duo and me, I didn't care to listen to the ongoing debate over Barton and his relationship, especially since I knew the truth.

I stood up and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Quatre asked quietly.

"To talk to Duo—to make sure he'll be all right with Wufei."

A smile quirked the lawyer's lips. "That's very sweet of you."

I gave one of my terse grunts and strode out before he could expand our conversation to include the others. Sweet, indeed!

"Duo—let me in, please." I tapped lightly on the door.

"'S open," came a muffled grunt.

I walked in to see Maxwell sprawled across his bed, glaring up at me like the petulant child Chang had described. He was—adorable.

"What're you smiling about?" he asked, pushing himself up onto an elbow.

I shook my head. "Tell me it's not amusing to see a former gang-banger slash stripper slash drug lord's lover pouting on his bed like a little kid."

His lower lip started to move in a definite pout, and then he pressed his mouth shut stubbornly, though I could see he was fighting a smirk. "Not pouting," he finally managed to mumble. "Sulking."

I grinned. "Close enough." Speaking of which, I didn't dare get closer to him—it was just too tempting seeing him stretched across that mattress, his shirt riding up to expose a strip of flesh above his jeans. "I just want you to understand, I wouldn't leave you alone with Chang on a whim, Duo. I really need to place surveillance across the lake, and I think Barton and Winner want to be together away from my partner's scowling disapproval. Don't you agree?"

He rolled onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and my gaze slid down to his now-exposed navel. "His disapproval didn't keep 'em out of the hot tub last night."

"He was asleep."

"Tro' and Quat have nothing to hide. They can do what they want regardless of Chang's opinion. Unlike _you_."

"All right. Yes, you're right," I admitted in frustration.

"You haven't given me a good reason I can't go," he pointed out, warming to his argument.

"Isn't my fear for your life reason enough?"

"Don't you mean fear for your bargaining chip?"

"No, I don't."

He gave me a skeptical look. "What was in your coffee this morning, Yuy? Last night you were a total ass to me."

"Last night I was—." _What to say? Jealous? Tense? Exhausted? _"I was judging you unfairly. I thought you were after Winner, rather than trying to fix him up with Barton. I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

"Now I know you aren't Yuy." He pushed himself up off the bed, giving me a wary, sidelong glance. "I'm going out to the kitchen where there are no pod people."

"Duo—."

"See? There you go again!" he snapped, now looking a bit irritated. "Where d'you get off calling me Duo? I was always Maxwell to you. Why the sudden change?"

I fumbled for a logical reason to give him for my change in attitude. "Can't I just be nice for a change?"

"No! Not _you_," he insisted. "What's going on anyway? Did Po change her mind about protecting me? Is that it? You're going to take me back and let me deal with Khushrenada on my own, aren't you?"

"What? No!" I shook my head. "Where'd you get an idiotic notion like that?"

"Then what are you up to? Why are you trying to be so fuckin' human all of a sudden?"

"I have no idea," I sighed, weary of the pointless discussion. "I have to go."

He looked dismayed and I realized that the dialogue he'd suckered me into was nothing more than a stalling tactic. He really didn't want to be alone with my partner.

I turned for the door, glancing back over my shoulder. "Bye, Maxwell. Have a nice day with Chang."

He gave a frustrated huff, and scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. Go. You and the two loverboys can have a nice goddamned day for all I care. Maybe Tro' will give me a sympathy fuck when he gets back."

I winced at that, though he couldn't see it while I had my back to him. "Thought you gave him up to Winner," I said, aiming for nonchalance in my voice and instead coming out with a rather surly growl.

"That was before I knew I'd need some serious stress relief after you stuck me with Chang all day." He pushed past me with none of the usual teasing in his gestures, and stalked back downstairs.

When I got to the kitchen, he was sitting on Trowa's lap, facing the exotic dancer with his arms wrapped around his neck, and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

I glared at Barton, wanting him to disentangle himself—wanting him to prove he'd been serious about not fucking Duo. But instead, his arms slid around the slender waist, and he nuzzled Duo's hair, murmuring a husky reply.

Duo leaned into him, turning his face towards Quatre. "Y'wouldn't mind, would you?"

_Mind what?_

"Of course not."

I gaped at the attorney, wondering what he'd just agreed to. From where I was standing, it looked like Duo had asked for that "sympathy fuck" and been given permission—by both Barton _and _Winner.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I spat, walking over to grab a rifle, binoculars, and my case of electronic equipment. "Can we just get the hell out of here?"

I fumed all the way to the boat, as the others tagged along, including Maxwell, who kept himself plastered to Barton's side, touching and teasing incessantly.

He sure knew how to play to an audience—the little brat. I didn't know if he was shooting for making me jealous (face it, he knew I wanted him, no matter how much I'd been fighting it) or making Chang uncomfortable about being alone with him (yeah, he knew the bigger the demonstration of physical affection, the more my partner would squirm). But I didn't care.

"Behave," I snarled curtly, stepping into the boat as Winner prepared to start the engine and Barton tossed in some life jackets.

"Of course I will," Duo shot back. "Badly."

"We'll be fine," Wufei assured me, stepping up alongside our edgy witness and gesturing towards the house. "Come on, Maxwell. It's time to get you out of the open. You can help me with the breakfast dishes."

"Dishes—?" I heard Duo wail in horror, just before Quatre started the engine and I cast off the line.

Then we were maneuvering away from the dock and turning towards the wide expanse of the lake. My last view of Maxwell he was arguing with Chang, waving his arms theatrically, and receiving only a bland, unruffled stare in return.

* * *

Racing across the lake in Winner's sleek speedboat was an experience I wouldn't soon forget. It wasn't a large boat, but was comfortably roomy and zipped across the lake with smooth power.

Yes, I knew Duo would have loved it. Anyone as addicted to adrenaline as he seemed would definitely find the whipping wind and throaty roar of the engine totally exhilarating.

As for me, my enjoyment of the ride was tempered by irritation at the way Barton had played along with Maxwell. He knew how I felt—he'd fucking encouraged it—and yet he allowed his former lover to hang all over him. And if he'd promised him a "sympathy fuck," I _was _going to call him on it. After all his adamant denials that there was still a physical relationship there, I expected him to at least _try_ to resist temptation.

_Possessive much, Yuy?_

_Yes!_

When we'd crossed a huge expanse of water, and were cruising an open stretch, Winner shut the motor off, allowing us to drift along the smooth surface of the lake in total, blissful silence.

"Wow!" breathed Barton, eyes wide as he took in the pristine landscape. "Quatre, this is incredible!" His smile had a wistful edge. "We've gotta bring Duo out here. He's never gotten to enjoy something like this!"

Duo again! Why did he always have to think about Duo first and foremost? Goddamnit, I was jealous! I suddenly recalled I'd meant to share the loon's call with my city-born witness. But that had never transpired, since we'd ended up at odds over finding out about the phone call he'd made.

"It's not safe to have Maxwell out here," I said a bit more harshly than necessary. "Look how exposed we are. Anyone on that shore--."

"There's no one!" Barton snapped back, glaring. "Jesus, Yuy, we're really in the wilderness here."

"No, we're not. We're at a Winner family estate. And I'm not careless enough to assume Khushrenada won't be trying to track down each and every one!"

"That could take ages. Why not let Duo enjoy it while he can?"

"Because my job is keeping him alive!"

"Right...and mine's fucking him, according to you," the stripper shot back. "I think we've both got the wrong job description right now."

"Guys!" Quatre's voice was stern and yet vaguely plaintive. "Please, let's just take a moment to regroup. Certainly it's natural that Trowa wants Duo to get to enjoy the lake, however briefly. And likewise, Heero, you want to keep him safe. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive. Perhaps those surveillance devices you're installing will provide sufficient security in the cove by the cottage, hm?"

"Maybe. Once I get them appropriately placed."

"Then let's get to it." Quatre moved to restart the engine. But before he could, our lazy drifting ground to a sudden halt, throwing all three of us to the floor of the boat.

"What the—?" Trowa blurted.

"Shit!" Quatre scrambled up and looked ruefully over the side of the boat. "Damn it! I forgot about that."

"What?" I demanded, getting up and rubbing a bruised hip I'd banged on one of the seats.

"There's a big flat rock out here in the middle of the lake. When it's been particularly dry, sometimes the water level drops enough to expose it."

"I don't see a rock," Trowa noted.

"It's just below the surface. Just close enough to ground the boat."

Sure enough, we were tilted slightly, stranded high and dry on that blasted rock. If I squinted into the darkness of the water, I could just make out the uneven stone surface.

"Lucky we were just drifting," Quatre commented, hopping over the side into water that was less than knee-deep. "We're just stuck. If we'd been under power, we might've ripped a hole in the boat." He leaned his back against the side of the boat and heaved mightily, but it didn't budge.

"Hn," I muttered, looking over at him. "We're stuck pretty solidly," I pointed out. "Let me help." I joined him over the side, placing my shoulder against the boat. "On three?"

"Careful," he cautioned. "The rock ends suddenly...step too far and you'll be right in over your head."

"I can swim."

"Okay then." He looked up at Barton. "Be ready to help us back in. Once the boat's afloat, we'll need a hand over the side."

"You've got it!"

With Winner and I both heaving against the heavy boat, it rocked a bit, slipping partway off the rock. On our second heave, it slid free about the time I think I pulled something in my back.

"Ow, shit!" I growled, stumbling and nearly falling into the deeper water.

"You okay?"

"Pulled a muscle," I replied, rubbing my shoulder and wriggling to try to ease the pain. "Nothing drastic."

"A good soak in the hot tub might help," Barton teased, as he held out a hand to assist Quatre into the boat.

"Not with you two," I said quickly.

They both blushed at once. "Wh-what do you mean?" Quatre stuttered.

"I mean, Duo came in well before you last night. I have no interest in sharing a hot tub with two guys who want to make out," I said, without telling them I'd seen their little tryst the night before.

"Oh."

Barton eyed me challengingly. "You could invite Duo in."

I glared back. "If you don't beat me to it," I replied, knowing there wasn't much point in dancing around my sexual orientation in front of Winner. He knew. Of that I was sure.

"I told you..."

"Yes, and then this morning you offered him a sympathy fuck," I grumbled, hauling myself over the side before he could try to assist.

"What? When?"

"He was sitting on your lap, whispering his request in your ear."

Barton laughed aloud. "He wanted us to watch another movie tonight when we got back," he told me.

I glanced between him and Winner, recalling the lawyer "not minding" whatever it was Duo had requested. Shit! Once again, I'd jumped to exactly the wrong conclusion. Granted, this time I'd had help—Duo had clearly set me up.

Trowa shook his head. "Yuy, you have got to stop doubting me. I told you I'm not fucking him and I meant it. Why do you think I get so annoyed that you seemed to think that's why I came?"

"Well, why did you?"

He shook his head. "I came to be his friend. And because I wanted to be near Quatre and have a chance to get...closer." He gave a shy smile to his new lover.

Quatre beamed back. "I'm glad you did," he said dreamily.

_Sorry I asked._

I refrained from gagging as I took my now-soggy shoes off and set them on one of the seats to dry. "Could we just get back to work, please? I've got a lot of surveillance to set up before I'll be remotely at ease allowing Duo onto the lake."

"Then let's get to it!" urged the lawyer, giving Barton's hand a squeeze as he passed him on the way to restart the boat.

"Wait a sec!" I interrupted, suddenly recalling Winner's promise of discussing backup plans for Duo's safety. "You mentioned some contingency plans. Would now be the time to discuss them?"

"It's as good as any," he shrugged, settling onto the seat and letting the boat continue to drift on the tranquil water. "As you said before, Treize will eventually track down this location. It only stands to reason, because of its proximity to the hunting lodge. If he knew you lost the SUV, he'd also know you couldn't have gotten too far."

I grunted my acknowledgement, none too pleased at having to admit my greatest fear.

"So...obviously you, Chang and Duo need to plan your next move."

I gave a curt nod, letting my gaze follow a hawk, gliding peacefully on a thermal.

"Trowa is the one who provided a solution."

I looked rather sullenly at the green-eyed man. "Of course," I said snidely.

He ignored my irritability. "There's some property up along the coast, owned by the circus I work for part-time. While they're traveling, it's unoccupied—a big farmhouse and a couple of barns—even some pens for the animals in the off season. Right now, my friend Catherine is there. She broke her ankle and has to stay out for the season. Rather than haul her around as dead weight, they put her up there to rest and look after any animals that get sick or injured and need down time."

"You want us to stay at a circus-owned farm?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You really think Ma—Duo will go along with that?"

"I know he will," Barton assured me. "He's met Catherine before, so he'll at least have a familiar face there to reassure him."

"You aren't planning on coming?" I asked, glancing between him and Quatre.

The lawyer shook his head. "That's part B of the plan…Trowa and I will play 'decoy,' and go in the opposite direction.

"Decoy?" I asked suspiciously. "How?"

"I'll dye my hair dark to match yours, and Trowa will wear a hair extension—a braid…"

"No!" I snapped, standing up so quickly the boat rocked from side to side. "It's out of the question!"

"But Yuy—."

"No!" I glared at them both, knowing the fury in my eyes was enough to intimidate the most dauntless soul. "You have no idea what you're contemplating! Those were real fucking bullets they shot at us. You _saw_ your cabin, Winner! Jesus Christ, you can't be serious!"

"We'd only try to confuse the trail," Barton spoke up carefully. "It's not like we'd actually try to draw fire."

I turned my most heated glare on him. "But you _would_," I snarled. "You'd very possibly be followed from the moment you left this property. And you'd almost certainly be shot at, or have _some _kind of attempt made on your lives!"

"We're aware of the danger," Quatre began diplomatically.

"No, you're not!" I insisted. "You weren't there while we were dodging bullets and tear gas! This isn't a game, counselor; it's life and death!"

"All the more reason for you to accept our help—," Trowa intervened.

I turned on him sharply. "You can help by taking care of Maxwell. You aren't here to get shot at. Duo would have a fit if he knew you were trying to talk me into letting you risk your lives."

"I don't care!" Barton snapped back. "If it's for Duo, I'll do anything—!"

"Even risk Quatre?" I asked, knowing I was playing a trump card the minute Barton's gaze turned agonized and slid over to the lawyer.

"Shit…"

"Trowa, it's okay!" Quatre said hastily, shooting me a scowl. "I accept the risk!"

"But I can't," Trowa conceded, giving me a resigned look, and then focusing on his lover again. "God, Quat, he's right. I fuckin' love Duo like a brother—but you—? If anything happened to you, I don't think I could go on."

"Oh, Trowa."

Then they were in each other's arms again, clinging desperately and murmuring endearments. Only this time I didn't feel like puking. I felt—a bit envious. I wanted someone to care that much about me.

And not just _any_ "someone."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I know you both want to help. But the last thing Duo would want is for you to get hurt trying. You know that as well as I do."

Winner turned a resigned face my way. "Yes, of course," he sighed. "It was—a good plan. But you're right—he'd never agree to it."

"Of course not. You know how he is about his friends. It was Barton's mention of the orphanage that swayed him to testify in the first place. You two are the last people he'd want in the line of fire." I managed a wry smile. "Chang and I, on the other hand…"

Winner shot me a stern look. "Don't sell yourself short, detective," he urged. "I already told you Duo trusts you two. And honestly, I'd have to say he likes you both. In spite of his smart mouth and his sniping about cops, he wouldn't want either one of you to die for him."

"It's my job," I said dismissively.

Winner shook his head. "Your job is to keep him alive, Heero—not to die for him."

"No," agreed Barton. "On the contrary, I'm sure he'd rather you _live _for him."

I wasn't sure if he was sliding a double meaning in there on purpose, though I knew him well enough by this time to suspect he was. "I have every intention of surviving this assignment," I said stiffly. "_And _of keeping Duo alive. The circus place you mentioned sounds promising, Barton, and I _will _have you give me directions to it and contact information. But that's as far as your contingency plan goes. We'll all go into hiding together, if need be. Or you two will go somewhere safe by yourselves. But there'll be no playing decoy—no endangering your lives needlessly. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," came Trowa's rather disgruntled reply.

I was spared further debate when Quatre started up the motor and set the boat into motion again, speeding us on our way across the lake to set up my surveillance.

* * *

We began our project at the farthest point I thought my equipment could transmit back to the laptop. While it was state of the art stuff, it had limits. I'd tested it to a full mile, but this time I'd be placing the mini cam a solid two miles from the cabin. I wasn't at all sure the signal would reach.

Nonetheless, I had Winner slow the boat near a tree-lined section of shore, planning to hop out into the shallows and wade to where I wanted the first unit placed.

"There's a dock just around the next bend," he told me, smirking a little as I swung a leg over the side.

I turned back to face him. "A dock?"

He nodded. "My sister and her husband enjoy riding their ATV's out here," he explained. "There's a dock and a garage."

"And how many ATV's?" Barton asked, looking intrigued.

"Four. In case of guests," Quatre told him. "Want to go riding?"

"Maybe another time," he suggested. "When we don't have a chaperone, or people to get back to."

"Don't let me hold you back," I advised, as Winner idled the engine, slowly maneuvering the boat around the peninsula and into the cove he'd mentioned.

Sure enough, there was a dock and a garage, and soon we had the boat tied up, and were hiking to high ground to set up my observation camera.

"You aren't holding us back," Trowa told me. "I just don't want to leave Duo with your anal partner any longer than necessary."

"Chang will behave," I assured him. "He promised. And one thing he does is keep his promises."

"Well that's good to know," Winner replied, gesturing me to a stand of trees near the water. "You might find a spot there for your camera."

"Hn." I eyed the view critically, hoping for a more or less direct line of sight towards the lake house. Electronics often transmit better in straight lines.

"You look less than enthusiastic," Barton commented, as I strapped the unit to a sturdy tree trunk.

"I'm just not sure how far this will transmit," I admitted. "And I hate to waste it if it's useless to us."

"You won't," Quatre assured me. "We can come back out tomorrow to make adjustments if you need to." He raised a pale blonde eyebrow. "Perhaps Duo could join us."

"We'll see."

I kept at my work, ignoring the hand-holding and murmured endearments going on behind me all day long. Oh sure, Trowa helped out now and then, especially once when I wanted a sensor placed fairly high in a tree.

Honestly, watching the muscular legs and ass flex as he climbed the tree made me begin to see what both Duo and Quatre had found so attractive about him; I mean, beyond the killer smile and the positively sexy green eyes.

And no, there's no need to point out I'd noticed his animal magnetism back at The Jungle, long before I knew a thing about his relationship with Duo. The guy was hot; there was just no denying that.

"Delicious, isn't he?" Winner asked, sidling up beside me to enjoy the view.

"I—wouldn't know," I said stiffly, tearing my eyes away.

"Take my word for it then," smirked the lawyer.

"So—you're serious about him?"

"Very."

I gave a curt nod. "I think he's serious about you as well."

I got a curious look and a raised eyebrow. "Really? Who told you that?"

"I might've overheard a conversation or two," I admitted.

"Eavesdropping again?"

"Being observant," I corrected him.

He smirked enigmatically. "Two can play at that game. Don't think your attraction to Duo has gone unnoticed."

"Who wouldn't be attracted?" I shrugged. "Even you are…or were."

"Wondering about competition?" he teased. "Don't worry. He's only got eyes for you, apparently."

"Oh?" _Why did my pulse flutter at that innocuous statement? _"So have you been eavesdropping, too?"

"He told me," came an answer so guileless and straightforward that I nearly choked.

I turned a disbelieving look to Winner. "_What_ did he tell you?"

"I think his exact words were that he had it bad for 'the really hot detective,'" he said frankly. His aquamarine eyes pinned me with a knowing gaze. "I know this isn't an ideal situation, Yuy. But whether you know it or not, you're kind of an anchor for Duo—someone solid and dependable, to protect him and care for him."

"I thought that's what Barton was."

"Trowa's someone for Duo to lean on and confide in—a friend. But you—you're someone he's clearly drawn to."

I rubbed a hand across my face. "Look, counselor, stop pushing, all right? Anything that might happen—it's between me and Duo. Besides," I added, turning away before I had to meet those discerning blue eyes, "it'll be over the minute he steps into the relocation program anyway." _Goddamnit!_

I was lousy company the rest of the morning, effectively shutting out both Winner and Barton any time they tried to start a dialogue. I'd already dealt with the realization that I felt something for Duo—I sure as hell didn't need to dwell on it, and what would happen when I had to let him go.

I was going to live for that "moment" he'd talked about, and try to enjoy what time I had with him…find out his likes and dislikes (those he hadn't already made abundantly clear)…learn about his hopes and dreams…and maybe even open up and tell him some of mine. But I'd do it in my own time—not Barton's, and not Winner's.

Hell, it could take weeks or even months for the trial date to be set. And as long as Chang and I kept Maxwell safe, there'd be time for all I wanted to know. If I could just be discrete enough to keep my partner from dwelling on his suspicions about my sexual orientation, I might make it through the assignment after all. I might even gain something precious out of it. A memory, if nothing else.

God, I was getting sappier than the two lovers making eyes at each other behind me. I needed to focus on my work and try to shut out their obviously contagious dreaminess.

By early afternoon, I'd set up as many cameras and sensors as I felt I could spare, and the three of us broke out some bottles of water and juice, and sandwiches Winner had made.

We were almost done eating when my cell phone rang, nearly startling me into falling overboard. "What the fuck?" No one had that number—except Po and Chang. _Shit! _"Yuy here!"

"Get back to the house, now," came Wufei's tense voice.

I thought I heard the sound of breaking glass and yelling in the background, but I couldn't be sure. "Are you under attack?" Even as I asked, I was waving Quatre to get the boat moving.

"No attack," Chang answered curtly. "But there was something on the news—Maxwell's gone off the deep end—."

And then the roar of the engine drowned out everything else.

"On our way!" I shouted into the phone, before shutting it and stuffing it back into my pocket.

We made record time across that lake. If I thought Winner had been showing off his boat's speed before, I was way off base. The swift flight across that expanse of water proved to me there was a state of the art engine propelling us along.

Even as we neared the dock, I could see Duo running down the hill from the house, with Wufei clinging to one arm trying to hold him back—or at least slow him down.

Barton leapt from the boat a good three feet from the dock, sprinting to meet his ex-lover with me at his heels.

"Tro'!" came a broken, hoarse voice, as Duo threw himself into his arms. "Dead! They're all _dead_!"

"Who's dead?" I demanded, looking first at Maxwell and then at Chang.

My partner shook his head sadly. "There was a gas line explosion at an orphanage," he said in a rather ragged whisper.

"Oh fuck."


	32. Regrouping

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Hm, don't know whether to be flattered or insulted that everyone thought I'd really kill off a bunch of sweet little orphans just to torture Duo. But I'm happy to say…well…just read, okay?

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Two: Regrouping

"It wasn't a gas line!" blurted Duo. "It was Treize, damn it!"

Trowa was trying to push Duo to arm's length. "Shini! Listen to me—calm down, love!"

"Fuck calm!" came the near-shriek of a response. "I'll fuckin' kill him, Tro'! Goddamn Khushrenada! It was _me _he wanted! Not them—." His voice broke and he clutched at Barton, nearly sobbing into his shoulder.

Winner had hastily flung a rope over a post and climbed off the boat to join us. "Duo! Listen to me. It's okay!"

"No!" Duo yelled, shoving away from Barton and grabbing Quatre. "You don't understand! Khushrenada fuckin' blew up the orphanage to get to _me_! It was no accident!"

"Duo, listen—."

"Thirty kids, Quat! He killed thirty fuckin' babies!"

"Duo—."

"I'll fuckin' kill him! I'll rip off his goddamned head and shit down his throat—the fucker!"

"Duo!"

"Quat—they're dead!" he rasped again, fresh tears spilling from tortured eyes. "All of 'em."

Quatre pushed him to arm's length, and then shocked the shit out of me by slapping him forcefully across the face. "Get a fucking grip, Duo!"

Utter silence fell as Duo gaped at his lawyer, backing a step and putting a hand to his reddened cheek. He backed right into Barton's chest, and the former circus performer wrapped calming arms around him, clutching him close.

"Shhh, love. Listen," he whispered gently.

Duo looked at me blankly for a moment, more lost and agonized than I'd ever seen him.

I wanted to rip him out of Barton's arms and take over the comforting. But all I could do with Chang standing right there was give a gentle nod for him to listen to his friends.

"The orphans weren't there," Quatre said quietly, drawing Duo's gaze back to his.

"What?"

I looked at Chang, who looked confused. "The newscast only said there was no information on casualties yet," he told me.

I turned my gaze to Winner. "Why wouldn't the orphans be there?"

"They're at a Winner-owned kids' camp," he said with a slight shrug, his aquamarine eyes never leaving Duo's. "The priest and nun went with them, at my request," he added.

Duo gasped in a breath, as if he'd been holding it for awhile. "A-are you sure—?"

"Positive."

Duo sagged against Trowa, letting out a choked sob, and when his ex-lover's green eyes met mine, I merely nodded. "Take him inside," I suggested. "We'll catch up."

He gave a short nod, turning Duo gently, but the braided man pulled away and threw his arms around Quatre's neck. "Thank you, Quat. Thank you _so _much."

"You're very welcome," Quatre assured him. "I'm sorry about slapping you—but I needed your attention right then. I needed you to listen—to _know_ the kids are okay." At Duo's nod, he continued. "Why don't you go on inside with Trowa? I'd like to talk to Detective Chang about that broadcast."

Duo nodded with uncharacteristic meekness, clearly exhausted, and allowed Trowa to wrap an arm around his waist and escort him up the hill. I could hear the low sound of Barton murmuring soothingly as they walked away, and for once I was content to let him be the one comforting Duo.

I had work to do.

"Details Chang," I said sharply, turning my gaze to my partner. "I want to know exactly what the newscast said."

"They said there'd been an explosion—that a gas line had ruptured and destroyed two buildings—an orphanage, and the empty warehouse next to it." He shook his head. "It took Maxwell all of a split-second to realize the location. He knew before they even showed the footage of a pile of rubble and stone, still burning unchecked." The dark eyes met mine with deep concern in them. "I thought for a moment he was going to pass out—the color just drained from his face. And then—. I've never heard such an agonized sound come out of a human throat, Yuy."

"He loves those kids," Winner interjected, walking beside me as we started up the hill.

"Do you really believe Khushrenada was behind this?" I asked frankly, playing devil's advocate. "I mean, isn't it possible there really was a gas line failure?"

"Of course. Anything's possible," he conceded. "Though it would be a hell of a coincidence."

"Why did you send them away?" Chang wondered.

"After finding out Hilde had been in communication with Khushrenada, it occurred to Trowa and me that he might know more about Duo than merely his last location. She had too much knowledge of Duo's associates—his habits—to be ignored."

"Counselor—you're quite brilliant, you know," said my partner, sounding much impressed.

Quatre blushed becomingly, smiling and ducking his head. "You flatter me, detective. I merely guessed that if she told Khushrenada all she knew, he might think of striking at anyone close to Duo. My family supports several charity organizations; so I contacted the priest at the orphanage and explained Duo's absence and my concerns. I invited him to bring the kids, himself, and his staff to one of our camps for the entire summer. They'd be fed, housed, and provided a chance to enjoy outdoor activities—probably for the first time in those children's lives." He smiled charmingly. "He could hardly refuse such an offer and still claim to have the best interests of the orphans at heart."

"Chang's right. You _are_ brilliant," I concurred. "But I wish you'd told Maxwell about it."

His face fell, and he nodded. "You're right. And I meant to. Honestly, it slipped my mind. But if he'd known, it would have saved him a lot of heartache today."

"Yes, it would," I said a bit coolly, still seeing the devastated look on Duo's face when we'd arrived.

Had he looked like that when Merquise was killed? Or when his gang members all died? God, I hated thinking of him with that heart wrenching pain etched on his face.

"Yuy?"

I looked distractedly at my partner. "Hm?"

"You—tuned out for a moment. I was telling Winner that after I called you, I put in a call to Captain Po."

"On a land line?" I asked sharply, my focus returning in a flash. "Chang—!"

"It was brief!" he assured me. "I only spoke to Relena—the Captain was in a meeting with the FBI."

"What?" I shook my head. "Why the FBI? What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know. But Relena promised to pass the message along that we'd called, and have Po contact us via e-mail, or a secure line."

My head was beginning to ache as I wondered how much more fucked up our plans could get. "We need some answers," I concluded grimly. "But first, let's make sure Trowa has got Duo settled down."

When we walked in Duo was curled up on the couch, sipping what looked like whiskey, while Trowa gently massaged his shoulders.

"—and they'll be learning some sports, hiking, swimming—like a vacation," he was telling the braided man.

"Does anyone know where they are?" Chang asked bluntly. "Anyone besides you, Winner?"

Quatre shook his head, even as Duo's alarmed gaze sought his. "Any correspondence is being funneled through my law office. If it's important enough for Father Maxwell's attention, we send it to the camp in a sealed company envelope. No one will find them. I promise."

"Good," Duo said, some of his spirit apparently having returned. Or perhaps he'd gained it from the half-empty bottle on the table. "Because sure as shit the reporters will find out there were no bodies in the rubble—and they'll plaster it all over the news."

"I'll tell Captain Po to put a lid on it," I offered, giving him a reassuring smile. "She'll make sure the media glosses over the drama—maybe a brief 'luckily the place was empty that day' statement. No one has to know how long it's been empty or will continue to be."

He gave me a grateful look. "Thanks, Yuy."

"I know how much those kids mean to you," I said, meeting his gaze squarely.

He tilted his head, narrowing the still red-rimmed eyes. "I guess you do."

"Yeah—you wouldn't let me orphan a couple of mangy bear cubs," I teased gently. "Of course your own kids would be even closer to your heart."

"My—?"

"Figuratively speaking," I added quickly. "I know they aren't 'yours,' per se."

He nodded, covering a shy smile by sipping more of his drink.

Trowa gave me a nod of approval from behind Duo. "So—anyone up for dinner?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Wufei grimaced slightly. "Um, first there's a bit of sweeping up to do," he said carefully. "A few dishes might have gotten broken."

Duo shot him a look, and something passed between them that made me wonder how their day had been spent.

"Seriously, Maxwell—I'll take care of it," he insisted, giving a small, reassuring smile.

Duo nodded, closing his eyes and leaning against the back of the couch wearily.

I followed my partner into the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room, and I immediately saw what he'd been talking about. Apparently Duo's meltdown had included some throwing of dishes…not many…but enough to litter the floor with broken glass.

"I'll help," I said firmly, grabbing a broom while he went after the dustpan. "As long as you tell me why you're suddenly so concerned about Duo."

"We—had a pleasant day," he admitted. "Up until the end." He held the pan while I swept bits of glass into it. "He coaxed me into sitting for a sketch, and I got him to try a bit of meditation. We actually got along fine."

"I'm—impressed."

"Don't be," he sighed, dumping out the first pan full of glass. "If I'd eased up my attitude sooner, we'd probably have been able to tolerate each other days ago."

"You aren't still ready to condemn him back to the gutter after he testifies?"

"You know better." He paused while gathering chunks of a broken plate. "I'm not saying he's going to become my best friend—but obviously he's not the shallow, selfish idiot I took him for at first." One dark eyebrow rose in a sardonic gesture. "However, he helped my perception of him along, with his attitude at the start."

"That he did," I shrugged. "Mine too. I guess we both had a lot to learn."

He gave a small flash of a smile. "I suspect we still do," he said obtusely, leaving me wondering whether he was referring to our discovery of Maxwell's depth of personality, or perhaps our clearer understanding of one another.

We'd shared more personal information on this trip than we had in years of working together. I was reasonably sure he had a clue that I was gay, and had yet to confront me with scorn or hatred. Whether or not that meant he _wouldn't _come right out with his contempt if I ever admitted it aloud, I didn't know.

* * *

It didn't take long to clean up the kitchen and make supper—a simple meal of leftovers from the night before, along with different vegetables and some pasta. Even Chang and I could handle that level of cooking.

When we all gathered at the table to eat, Duo looked much better, though there was still a palpable tension running through him.

I decided to take charge of things, since everyone else seemed a bit timid about confronting our precarious situation.

"We can't stay here," I said flatly. "As we discussed out on the lake, sooner or later Khushrenada will connect the dots and track us down."

Duo's expression darkened. "If he were coming in person, I'd be tempted to wait for him and kick his sorry ass into the afterlife."

"But you know he wouldn't," Quatre pointed out. "In his current position, much as he might like to clean up his mess personally, he can't. He's out on bail, so he has to be very, very careful of what he does."

"I'd guess Une's handling the situation for him," I told them. "You said she was expecting to kill Merquise herself, right Duo?"

"Yeah." There was a slight breathiness to his voice that made me regret reminding him of the tragic moment his lover had died.

"So she's Khushrenada's right hand, in a manner of speaking," Wufei noted.

"Y'got that right," agreed Duo. "I never saw him without her at his side. The few times I was with Zechs when he met with Treize, Une was always there."

"And they didn't realize you were Zechs' lover?" Chang asked.

"Like I told Yuy, when we were in public, we kept things kind of low key," shrugged our witness. "I didn't hang off his arm or anything; so I suppose anyone seeing us together thought I was just a bodyguard or something."

"Lucky for you," I pointed out. "If Khushrenada had known you were a couple, he might've been expecting to find you in that penthouse with Merquise, and you might not have had time to escape."

"I know," came the grave reply. Duo fiddled with his fork, picking apart some of his food. "I think Zechs did that on purpose, actually," he said almost hesitantly. He looked up across the table at me in a way that made me feel almost like we were the only two people there. "It used to bother me a little that he seemed uncomfortable about showing anyone we were a couple. But I think maybe he was trying to protect me." He gave a slight shrug and a derogatory snort. "It'd be just like him not to ask if I _wanted _his protection."

That was the first time I'd heard him express anything other than complete adoration for his dead lover, and I found it oddly pleasing.

Barton grinned at Maxwell. "If he'd asked, you'd have told him where to shove it," he pointed out.

"Damn straight." Duo squared his shoulders slightly. "For fuck's sake, he hired me to protect the girls at Sanc—you'd think he'd have trusted me to watch my own back, too."

"People don't think rationally about those they love," Quatre spoke up, in that wonderfully ambiguous way lawyers have.

Was he talking about Zechs and Duo, Duo and me, or himself and Trowa? Probably all three. God knows, rationality had gone out the window a long time ago.

"At any rate," I cut in before anyone could explore the intricacies of love's effect on intelligent thought, "we need to prepare to move at a moment's notice. I want everyone to pack one backpack with essentials, and then we'll each have a secondary bag with spare guns, food, and as many of my security devices as we can fit."

"We'll need lightweight non-perishables," Chang pointed out. "There's only frozen food and canned goods here."

"Okay, so tomorrow Winner can take you to the nearest grocery store for supplies."

"We can take my sister's car," Quatre volunteered. "And we'll have the oil and fluids checked and top off the tank so it's ready."

"Should I contact Catherine to let her know we're coming?" Trowa inquired.

"No," I said firmly. "You already said she's aware of the possibility, right?"

He nodded.

"Then we can show up whenever we need to?"

"Absolutely."

Duo looked between us in confusion. "Sounds like you three had a big planning session without me an' Wuffers."

"We discussed some options," I told him vaguely, not wanting to share details of the wild plan Winner and Barton had cooked up and I'd shot down.

He gave me a vaguely irritated look. "Don't I get to take part in any of the discussion? After all, it's my life Khushrenada's after."

"You _are_ taking part in the discussion—right now," I pointed out.

"But it seems like you've already decided what we're gonna do."

"We agreed on our best option," I shrugged, on the verge of reminding him he'd placed his power of attorney in Winner's hands, and thus basically relinquished his decision-making privileges.

"Duo," Trowa broke in, unfazed by the scowl on his former lover's face. "Since we can't stay here, and since Catherine's up at the winter camp for the circus, that seemed like the best place to go."

"Why's she up there?" asked Maxwell, obviously familiar with the subject of the circus property.

"Broke an ankle in a fall—she's fine!" Trowa hastened to say, cutting off Duo's open-mouthed concern. "But they gave her the season off."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed suddenly, and he gave Barton a long look. "Why aren't you with the circus then?"

"I—have more important concerns right now. They gave me the summer off, too."

A look flashed across Duo's face, and it wasn't a pleasant one. "You took time off because of me?" He pushed himself up from the table. "Dammit, Trowa, you shouldn't have to put your life on hold just because I got myself into a jam!"

"I didn't," argued his friend reasonably. "But right now keeping you safe is more important than any job."

"I've got Yuy and Chang to keep me safe!" Duo retorted. "You should've gone on with your life."

"Duo—," Winner began.

"No, Quat! It's not right. Tro' shouldn't have to give up his own plans just for me."

"That's his choice to make, not yours," Quatre said firmly. "Besides, with Khushrenada out there targeting anyone you care about, don't you think Trowa's safer here than anywhere?"

Duo subsided at that, frowning in thought. And then he just looked miserable. "God, Quat—how many lives have I fucked up?"

"You didn't," I interrupted sternly. "Khushrenada did."

"I'm the one who hopped in bed with a drug lord," Duo said bitterly. "I knew what I was doing, Yuy. I knew what Zechs was. I just didn't care. He was—exciting and dangerous and hotter than Hell—and I couldn't get enough of him. And damn the consequences."

"You may not have cared about the consequences to yourself," I told him. "But if you'd known others close to you could get hurt, I know you wouldn't have gotten involved with him at all."

He looked a bit startled by my support, and I almost expected another pod person comment. But instead, he gave a slight shrug and a ghost of a smile. "Maybe not," he conceded.

"This is Khushrenada's doing—not yours," I said firmly. "Stop blaming yourself and concentrate on surviving and putting the bastard away."

He gave a true grin then. "Yeah, I'd like doing that," he admitted.

"All right then," I continued. "So we agree that going to the circus property is our next move. I want everyone packed tonight. Tomorrow we'll stock up on non-perishable and lightweight groceries, and by tomorrow night, we should be ready to go on a moment's notice."

"Are we leaving then?" Duo asked.

"Not necessarily. But we should be ready just in case."

"Excellent plan," Wufei agreed. "Once we're ready, even if we're found out, we'll be in a position to act quickly and decisively."

Duo made a slight face. "I didn't really like all that quick, decisive action last time," he said with a wry smile. "It'd be great if we could avoid it."

I glanced warily at Chang, expecting him to bring up the phone call, and he did—though not in the way I thought he would. "None of us want a repeat of last time," he said evenly. "And since we've managed a more—cooperative atmosphere, it's unlikely to happen."

Maxwell eyed him, smirking just a bit. "Admit it, Chang—I'm growing on you, aren't I?"

"Like barnacles on a ship," sighed my partner theatrically. "Speaking of which, Winner, Maxwell and I drained and refilled the hot tub this morning—shortly after you left." He jerked a thumb in Duo's direction. "He insisted."

"Well the water looked—cloudy," Duo said, blinking innocently at the two lovebirds. "And I was hoping to soak in it later."

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing as Trowa and Quatre suddenly developed a deep fascination with the remainder of food on their plates, though the lawyer managed to muster his voice after a moment.

"Yes, it's probably good to freshen it from time to time," he said rather hastily. "I'll check the pH and add some water conditioner after supper, though I'm not sure it'll be quite up to temperature yet."

"It's still warmer than the air," Duo assured him. "I carried hot water from the kitchen!" He sounded so proud of himself and his ingenuity that I tried not to grin.

Instead, I snorted quietly. "You just want to go skinny dipping in it again as soon as possible."

"Damn straight."

"Why not go in the lake with Trowa and me?" Quatre offered. "It's cold—but not after you're in for awhile. We can give you some pointers on swimming."

Barton raised an eyebrow at that. "I thought we were going canoeing."

"Ah, that's the beauty of it," Quatre crooned. "We can do both. There's this little sand bar a ways off shore that's beautiful by moonlight."

Trowa's eyes lit up, and Quatre and he exchanged a long, doe-eyed look that made the rest of us shake our heads ruefully. Yeah, they were totally gone.

Duo pouted adorably, breaking into their romantic moment. "Why can't I learn to swim in a nice, toasty hot tub?"

"It's not big enough," Quatre assured him.

"Yeah—but the lake's full of mud, and plants, and _fish_ and stuff," Duo replied with a grimace. "What if I got bitten by something?"

"There's nothing big enough in that lake to bite you," Quatre laughed, his aquamarine eyes glimmering. "Trust me—sunfish and shiners wouldn't even nibble your toes."

"'S not my _toes_ I'd be worried about," Duo said with a shake of his head, dropping a protective hand to his lap. "I'll pass. You and Tro' can go nude in the lake, while I lounge in the warm, clear, _safe_ water of the hot tub."

Right…_clear_…at least since he'd removed all evidence of our two new arrivals' little tryst.

Quatre was suddenly staring at me, and I wondered if he knew about the surveillance camera on the deck.

"Counselor?"

"Actually, I was thinking—_you're_ the one who really needs a soak in the tub. How's your back after shoving the boat off the rock?"

I rolled my shoulders experimentally and winced a little. "I've got a sore muscle or two—nothing that would impair my ability to function."

_Did I sound defensive, or what?_

The next thing I knew, Barton stood up smoothly and walked around behind my chair, settling his hands firmly on my shoulders and beginning a firm, circular motion with his thumbs just below the blades. "Where does it hurt?"

I don't know if it was the skillful pressure of his hands, or the husky sound of his voice, but I shivered involuntarily. "Uh—lower," I admitted reluctantly.

His hands slid down a bit, widening their reach and kneading sore muscles. "There?"

"Ah—yeah," I breathed, blinking dazedly to try to keep my eyes from drifting shut at the wonderful sensation.

Duo chuckled warmly, leaning against Quatre's shoulder as he watched us with an almost hungry look in his eyes. "Talented hands, huh Yuy?"

"V-very," I gasped, swallowing to keep from groaning in pleasure. _Goddamn_—Trowa had amazing hands.

"Yeah, I learned a little therapeutic massage from this bearded lady who used to work with the circus," he explained, his fingers finding each knot and twist of muscle that hurt, and smoothing away the pain.

No wonder Duo had been reduced to a moaning and relaxed lump on his mattress. I couldn't help but reflect that Quatre Winner was a lucky sonofabitch indeed.

While I was helpless under Barton's ministrations, Duo, Quatre and Wufei began clearing the table and setting things up for a movie night. And by the time I told him to stop before he put me to sleep, they were gathering around the television and settling into chairs.

This time, however, it was Winner who got to stretch out on the couch, his head on Barton's lap, while Maxwell sat on the floor in front of them, using Trowa's legs as a back rest. Wufei took a recliner, and actually tilted it back in a relaxed fashion—damned if the man wasn't learning to loosen up after all!

I elected to spend movie time on my laptop, monitoring and adjusting my newly-distributed mini cams—in spite of a chiding from all four of my colleagues. All it took was a reminder that Khushrenada wasn't above butchering orphans (or at least making the attempt) to get them all to back off.

And I had to promise Winner I'd try out the hot tub once he checked the water pH and temperature after the movie.

_Yeah—twist my arm. _They'd made that tub look positively heavenly the night before. I had no problem with indulging—though I knew keeping the image of a naked Duo lounging in it out of my mind would be the hardest part. Well—the second-hardest, anyway.

* * *

I must have lost track of the time, because it seemed like only moments of making surveillance adjustments before Winner was standing beside me in the little alcove off the living room, clearing his throat pointedly.

I looked up in surprise. "Movie over already?"

"Half an hour ago," he said with a grin.

I looked past him and realized we were alone. "They went to bed?"

"Duo was pretty worn out—dozed off a couple of times during the movie—so Trowa took him up to lie down. Chang's in the kitchen making tea, and I'm about to go balance the tub water." He ran those keen eyes down my body. "You need to go get undressed."

"Huh?"

He grinned at the expression on my face. "There are towels and robes in the linen closet at the end of the hallway upstairs," he told me. "Go help yourself." He crossed his arms resolutely. "You promised."

"Did I?"

"Yes, and I've got witnesses." He turned on his boyish charm then, giving me a teasing grin. "Come on—it'll help loosen your muscles. You _do _want to be in top form if we run into trouble, right?"

"Of course."

"Well then, you go get ready. I'll take care of the tub. And then you can have a nice soak while Trowa and I go for a little midnight swim in the lake, and your partner handles security."

It made sense when he put it that way. Certainly it would help relax me, soothe the sore muscles, and assist me in sleeping. Since it was Chang's turn to stand watch that night, I'd have a solid eight hours to rest and recharge.

I stood and stretched, flexing my muscles rather gingerly. While the massage had definitely helped, a good, warm soak should take care of any lingering pain. "All right, counselor. I'll be back shortly."

I climbed the stairs and made my way to the closet, choosing a thick robe and a soft, plush towel. Hell, if I had to be on a protective detail, I couldn't have asked for nicer accommodations.

When I got to my room, intending to shed all but my boxers and wear a robe downstairs, I stopped at the door, stunned into immobility. Duo was curled up asleep in the bed Quatre had been using, and Trowa was sitting on the edge, idly stroking the chestnut hair in a soothing gesture.

"Why is he in this room?" I asked warily.

Barton gave me an amused look. "Couple of reasons—first, he wanted to give Quatre and me some privacy."

"So you won't use the hot tub for sex again?" I couldn't resist commenting. He blushed rather cutely, and I smirked. "Want to see the surveillance footage?"

"Oh shit." His blush deepened. "You're a sick man, Yuy."

"Just doing my job," I tossed back at him.

"Right," he scoffed.

"So what's the other reason Duo's in my room?" I persisted.

"Well, Quatre didn't want to kick Chang out of his private room, and Duo agreed that he'd probably sleep better if he wasn't in a room alone. This was the next logical place."

"So Duo really _has _given you over to Winner, eh?"

"As I've been trying to tell you," Barton answered with a roll of his eyes.

"And what if he has a nightmare? What am _I_ supposed to do about it?"

"Comfort him," came the swift, firm reply. "Just be careful—he keeps his knife under his pillow."

I eyed Barton warily. "This feels like a setup to me. Did you and Duo cook up some scheme to get me back into bed with him?"

"You've never _been _in bed with him," smirked the dancer. "As I recall, he said you two did it on the floor."

It was my turn to blush, and the way my face burned, I'm sure I was crimson with embarrassment. "It was—unplanned," I mumbled awkwardly.

"But great, huh?" he teased in retaliation for my earlier taunts.

"Yeah," I admitted, my gaze dropping to Duo's peaceful expression as he slept.

Barton's fingers were still stroking lovingly down the chestnut hair, soothing that handsome face into relaxed slumber.

"Wanna take over here?" he asked.

I shook my head, backing a step and forcing my gaze back up to Barton's face. "I—uh—Winner insists I soak in the hot tub for awhile. For my back." I gave him a knowing look. "I'd like to use it _before _you and Winner go near it again."

"Ah. Yeah," he acknowledged with a sheepish grin. "Guess it's a good thing Maxwell and Chang changed the water."

"No shit."

His grin widened. "Well maybe after you finish soaking, Quat and I could have another go at it."

"Get a room!" I suggested with a grimace.

He chuckled. "I believe those were Duo's exact words when he rearranged sleeping accommodations."

"I'd take his advice. If Wufei had happened to be on surveillance last night—." I let my voice trail off ominously.

But Barton merely gave an evil grin. "It'd be his own fault if he got more than he bargained for. Yours too."

Grinning in return, I shook my head and turned away, hastily throwing the robe around my shoulders so I could undress modestly. Aside from a rather derisive snort, Barton refrained from comment, and I quickly finished and headed downstairs.

I found Winner just completing his prep of the hot tub, and he smiled and gestured to the water. "All set for you," he said grandly. "Wearing boxers into the tub? Or are you finished being a complete prude?"

I gave him my best glare, putting a hand to the sash of my robe. "I'm wearing them. And I'm not a prude—just—a private person. _Chang's_ the prude."

He snorted wryly, glancing past my shoulder.

"And he's right behind me, isn't he?"

"Absolutely."

I turned to find my partner standing with his arms crossed. "Yuy, wearing boxers into a hot tub doesn't make you a prude, no matter what Winner says."

"I know," I agreed. "But I maintain that you _are_ one."

"I have my own reasons for not flaunting my body," he said rather stiffly. "But if I weren't on surveillance duty at the moment, I'd consider sharing a hot tub with you." His dark glance slid past me to Winner and then back. "But _only _you."

"I'm wounded," teased the attorney, half-seriously. "Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you. I just don't want to see you naked," came the cool response. "I know at least Yuy has enough of a sense of propriety to wear _something._ But you and the other two—?"

Quatre smirked unrepentantly. "It's very liberating, Chang. You should try it sometime."

"I'd be happy to, if I could count on being alone, unobserved, and uninterrupted."

"Well, perhaps we can accommodate you. Trowa and I plan to go swimming by moonlight. He should be down here shortly. And I'm sure Heero would promise to keep Duo occupied and out of your way, hm?"

"He's asleep," I said quickly, before Wufei could begin to speculate.

"Good," Quatre said with a somber expression. "He had a stressful day, thanks to me."

"He'll get over it," I assured him. "And if he has nightmares again, I'm sure it'll wake me."

"So you don't mind the room swap?" asked the cagey lawyer.

"What swap?" Wufei asked.

"Maxwell's in my room; Winner and Barton are in his." I waited for Chang to object—either at the thought of Winner and Barton sharing a bed, or at my being "subjected to" sharing with Maxwell.

But he nodded slightly. "I think that's for the best," he said. "Maxwell should have someone close at all times, for safety's sake at the very least. And if it also soothes away the nightmares, that's an added bonus." He smiled evilly. "Better you than me," he added with a hint of malicious glee.

_Damn right._

I really needed to get that inner voice under control. It kept popping out with the most inappropriate comments. And it kept murmuring ideas—like how nice it would be to stroke Duo's bangs away from his face as Barton had done.

"Yuy?"

"Hm?"

Wufei looked at me rather quizzically. "Perhaps after your soak in the hot tub you should get some sleep. You just tuned out again."

"Yes, sleep," I agreed. "I could definitely use a good night's rest."

Quatre was smirking a bit too knowingly as he gave me a push towards the tub. "But first, loosen up the muscles you pulled today." He fixed a determined look on my partner as well. "As for you, Chang, there are swimsuits in the upstairs linen closet. Help yourself to one and take a turn in the tub after Yuy. That's an order! You're going to learn to indulge a little if I have to belt you over the head and dunk you in the tub!"

"Fine," growled Wufei, not sounding as put out as I expected. "I'll try it. But alone—after Yuy. And I won't have anyone standing around watching, either."

"Of course not. Trowa and I will be out in the lake," Quatre told him, looking a bit smug. "Now—enjoy." He walked off to get his lover, and I exchanged a look with Wufei.

"Bossy lawyers," I muttered, not nearly as grudgingly as it sounded. I was honestly looking forward to easing into that hot, steaming water.

And it did feel as heavenly as it looked. I took a seat in a corner, putting my gun and cell phone within reach on a table a safe distance from the water's edge, and then I leaned back to enjoy.

And yes, I kept my boxers on. That did _not _make me a prude.


	33. Solace

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Three: Solace

I hadn't been in the tub long when I heard voices and the patter of feet, and Barton and Winner came out onto the deck, towels in hand.

"We're off to swim," Quatre told me, eyeing my bare chest with a look I interpreted as appreciative. "Chang's decided to accompany us as far as the dock so he can do a quick perimeter check."

"Sounds good," I replied, settling a bit deeper into the water. "I've got the laptop set to make a chiming noise if any sensors are triggered; so I can monitor it from here."

"Water warm enough?"

"Fine." I gave him an impatient look. "You can go now. I like privacy as much as Chang does."

He gave an irrepressible grin, much like Duo's. "And you say you're not a prude."

Barton hooked an arm around his lover's waist. "You're a fine one to talk, Quat, when it took both Duo an' me to get you naked in the hot tub. C'mon—let's go swimming."

They sauntered off arm in arm, and I leaned back and closed my eyes.

I don't know if I dozed off for a bit, but when I caught the faint whisper of sound behind me, I grabbed my gun off the table beside the tub, twisting around to find Maxwell leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed casually. He was wearing nothing but tattered sweat pants, which hung alluringly off his slender hips and momentarily distracted me from wondering what had awakened him.

"Jesus—," I muttered in an exasperated huff. "Don't sneak up on me!" I put the safety back on and set the gun on the table.

He smirked almost coyly, walking over and sitting on the edge of the tub. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you—just ogle you from afar."

I rolled my eyes. "That's why you're out here?"

"No—that's just a perk," he grinned, but then it faded into a sort of nervous smile. He was fiddling with the end of his braid in a gesture of uneasiness—not his usual cocky confidence.

"Nightmare?" I asked simply, guessing that the close call for the orphans might have triggered another unpleasant episode.

"Naw—nothin' like that. Tro' woke me before he and Quat left, so I wouldn't wake up and not know where anyone was. I was gonna sketch for awhile, but I wasn't in the mood; an' then when I went to get a drink of water, I saw you out here and thought I'd come down and maybe talk."

"Talk?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just—well—I was kind of a prick this morning. You didn't deserve that. You were trying to be nice all of a sudden, and I just kind of took it badly." He glanced up from under his bangs, a picture of shy uncertainty. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Well—that was unexpected.

"It's okay," I shrugged. "Like you said, I was a bit out of character, wasn't I?"

"More like 'in' it," he corrected. "For the first time since you found out about the phone call. I hope I didn't blow it."

I shook my head.

"Good." He glanced out across the moonlit lake, obviously deep in thought. "I also wanted to thank you for having Quat bring Trowa up here. 'S not like I deserved it after screwing up the way I did. But—it meant a lot to have someone to—." He paused uncomfortably. "Someone who knew Zechs," he concluded in a rush. "I needed to talk about him and—and—."

"—and all you got from Chang and me was sarcasm and contempt," I finished for him.

He dropped his gaze to the water, trailing a hand in the warm, steaming liquid. "You're cops. Wasn't fair of me to expect you to care about a drug lord's death…to care about _me_…"

I silenced him by catching his hand and gently tangling my fingers with his. "You don't make it easy, Maxwell," I said quietly, running my thumb across the back of his hand in a caress.

"I know," he breathed quietly, his gaze fixed on our hands.

_Was he trembling? I could have sworn I felt a tremor in the slim fingers._

Then he looked up from under his bangs. "Do I make it _hard_?" he asked with an irrepressible smirk. I hesitated in replying, and he immediately looked contrite. "There I go, hiding behind sex again, huh?"

"It seems to be a defense mechanism for you," I noted. "But you've got to let that guard down once in a while. You have to let people in if you want to have any chance of getting to know them—or letting them know you."

"Where I come from, y' don't want cops knowing anything about you at all," he told me frankly. "And after what happened to the Reapers, I pretty much decided all cops were cut from the same cloth." He looked me squarely in the eyes. "I was wrong."

"I'm glad you feel that way," I replied with equal honesty.

He gave a shy nod, his gaze dropping back to our hands, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what my intentions were—why I was suddenly making a physical gesture. "Yuy—?"

A door slammed in the front of the house, and Chang called out a greeting, letting me know his security survey was complete.

Duo started to pull his hand away, but I kept a firm grip on it, looking up at him sternly. "We'll finish this later."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips parting in a silent question.

"_Finish what?" he was asking as plain as day. "Finish the conversation? The touch? Or more?"_

"I want to talk for a change, instead of fighting," I clarified, standing up and finally letting go of his hand after a small, affectionate squeeze.

"Oh. Okay."

I could feel his eyes on me as I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist, just as Chang came strolling out onto the deck.

"My turn in the tub?" asked my partner.

"It's all yours."

Duo eyed him rather speculatively, and Wufei shook his head. "No, Maxwell, you may _not _hang around and watch."

"Have it your way, Wuffers," Duo sniffed disdainfully. "I'll just go on up to bed with Yuy then."

"_W-with_—?" I sputtered, caught off guard by his open flirting in front of Wufei again.

Chang rolled his eyes, giving me a sort of conspiratorial and long-suffering glance. "It's your funeral when he decides he's tired of your advances," he told Maxwell. Shaking his head in mock despair, he added, "Don't ask me to help you hide any more bodies, Yuy."

"Ha…ha…" I drawled—unimpressed with his humor, but vastly relieved that Chang was treating Duo's flirtation as harmless fun.

Then I realized Duo was standing by the door looking expectantly at me…and that we were about to walk up those stairs together to the same bedroom. My mind turned to complete mush.

Duo held out a hand in a teasing gesture, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

When my cell phone rang, I jumped, nearly knocking it into the tub as I fumbled to grab it off the table. "Yuy here!" I snapped breathlessly, relieved by the interruption.

"I've got bad news," came Captain Po's blunt, no-nonsense voice.

"Nice to hear from you, too," I muttered sarcastically.

"I'm serious," she said. "A lot happened today—none of it good."

"Let me guess…the orphanage Maxwell volunteered at got blown up."

"So you've seen the news."

Duo's head tilted curiously in my direction as he listened to my half of the conversation.

"Don't worry," I told the Captain. "No one was in the building at the time of the explosion."

"How'd you know that?"

"Inside information. And I'd like you to keep it quiet, if you can. Just tell the press that luckily the kids were gone for the day."

"I can do that. But—where were they?"

"Safe," I said simply. "And the less you share with the press, the safer they'll stay." I gestured to the stairs with my head, covering the receiver for a moment. "Go on up to bed, Duo," I said quietly. "I'll be there in a bit."

He smiled slyly, though it looked like it was for Wufei's benefit. "Tuck me in?" he asked sweetly.

"You wish," I shot back, trying to sound like I was brushing him off. It didn't fool him for a minute, though I hoped it might at least fool Chang.

"I like dreamin'," he smirked, heading for the stairs.

Chang followed him. "I'm going to find those swimming trunks Winner mentioned earlier," he told me. "And to make sure Maxwell really goes to bed and doesn't try slipping back down here to bother me."

I nodded and resumed my talk with the Captain. "Honestly, sir. Khushrenada's stooped to striking at orphans. Can't you get more dirt on him? Can we hurry this along so Duo can have a life?"

"Duo?"

"M-Maxwell," I corrected myself hastily. "With Winner and Barton here, it's gotten a bit—informal, sir."

"So it seems." She paused for a moment, and I could practically hear her formulating her next thought. "Anyhow, we've got bigger problems than keeping a lid on the orphanage explosion. The FBI showed up at my door today. Some fisherman pulled Otto's body out of the river last week, and apparently Trant ran to the Feds for protection. He said Une tried to kill him along with his fellow thug, to keep them quiet about Merquise's murder."

_Tying up loose ends, no doubt._

Then a more important thought occurred to me. "We've got another witness?" I asked, my heart leaping with hope. Maybe Duo wouldn't have to testify all alone—and maybe he wouldn't end up in relocation afterwards—not if there was another scapegoat for Khushrenada to blame.

"_We_ have not got another witness. The Feds have him. And they're trying to pull rank on us for jurisdiction in this case."

"What does that mean?"

"It means if they succeed, they'll make us turn Maxwell over to them. They'll use his testimony to back up Trant's."

_Wait—turn Duo over to the people he said were on Khushrenada's payroll? Not likely!_

"They can't do that!" I insisted.

"Not yet," she sighed. "We're fighting for jurisdiction on Merquise's murder. It wasn't a federal crime. But—well—Trant knows a lot about Khushrenada's drug dealings and other killings. The Feds want to make full use of that knowledge." She paused long enough to begin to worry me.

"Captain?"

"Here's what I want you to do, Yuy. Hide Maxwell. Don't call me. Don't tell me anything. Obviously if the FBI is involved, even our department lines can't be considered secure. Plus, that way I can honestly say I don't know where you are."

"For how long?" I asked breathlessly, my gaze wandering to the stairs Duo had recently climbed. Wufei was descending those same stairs, clad in a robe which I guessed covered the swimsuit he was wearing.

"When you read about the trial starting, you'll know it's time to come in."

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

She was talking about cutting off all support—leaving us literally on our own—out of the information loop and more or less hung out to dry.

Chang looked at me with a frown, catching on to the fact that I didn't like what I was hearing. And he paused, leaning on the stair railing to wait for me to elaborate.

"If you want out of this assignment," the Captain offered, "now's the time."

"And if we did, what would you do? Send other officers? Give Duo to the FBI? _What_?" I demanded.

Wufei's eyes widened in confusion, and he gave a slight shake of his head.

"No thanks, Captain," I said firmly, not waiting for her answer. "Chang and I have kept him alive this long; we're in it for the long haul."

"It's not as bad as it sounds," she said soothingly. "If things really fall to pieces, I'll get word to you—somehow. Just, for now, lay low?"

"Like we have a choice?" I asked bitterly.

"It'll be okay, Yuy, I swear. Po out."

"Yeah, whatever." I figured saying "fuck off" to my boss would only make things worse.

Chang read the expression on my face like an open book, and scowled at what he saw. "What did she say?" he demanded. "Why were you talking about turning Maxwell over to the FBI?"

"The FBI has Trant," I told him. "Apparently an attempt was made on his life, and he ran to them for protection. The trouble is, they don't have jurisdiction in the Merquise case, and they want it."

"Maxwell was afraid of the FBI," Chang recalled. "He said Merquise told him Khushrenada had inside men there—and I'm ready to believe him." He shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm not handing him over to the Feds—no matter what Po says."

"I agree," I said flatly. But I gave my partner a puzzled look nonetheless; his sudden concern for Duo was unexpected.

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring back at me. "Yes, I give a damn what happens to him. Happy?"

"Deliriously," I drawled, managing a crooked smile. Then I shook my head and dredged up the rest of the conversation with Po to tell Chang about.

He was no more pleased than I had been at being told we were essentially on our own until things were resolved with the FBI. But he pointed out we'd been more or less alone since we left the precinct. And we'd managed just fine.

His calm reassurance soothed my nerves, and when he headed out to the hot tub, I went upstairs to catch a few hours of sleep. I figured it had been long enough that Duo would already be asleep, and I wouldn't have to tell him about the worrisome conversation.

I got lucky in that he was, indeed, asleep—curled up among his blankets and hugging a pillow to his chest. Once again I was struck by how innocent and childlike he looked when he was sleeping.

And this time I was also overwhelmed with a fierce desire to protect him from those who would do him harm. I'd seen the side of him that marveled at new sights and sounds—that insisted on stopping to see a sunrise—and I was absolutely captivated by it. I knew right then that I'd do anything for him—anything at all.

With a painful sigh, I went to my own cold, empty bed, several feet from his, got rid of my towel and wet boxers and put on dry ones and a tee shirt before sliding under the covers. But I allowed myself the luxury of falling asleep watching the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, and the soft, peaceful expression on his face.

* * *

When my eyes blinked open again, it was still dark, and it took me a moment to realize what had awakened me. Sure enough, Duo was having another nightmare. I could hear the distressed noises—groans and the rustle of sheets being kicked aside.

I was out of my bed in a heartbeat, crossing to stand beside his. But I wasn't quite sure what to do next.

He was tossing restlessly, whimpering and crying out in his sleep, hands clenched on the comforter.

"No…please. Please don't…"

His struggles grew more frantic, and I started to reach for him, only to recall Trowa's warning that his switchblade would be tucked under the pillow. "Hey, Maxwell? Y'okay?" I asked.

Yes, it was a colossally stupid question. Clearly he wasn't "okay," but I was hoping to rouse him from whatever nightmare held him in its grip.

"Maxwell!"

He gasped, his hands releasing the blanket and reaching out in a desperate gesture. "Don't! God—no! Not him! Please—I'll do anything. Just don't—."

"Duo!" This time I did reach out and put a hand on his shoulder.

He immediately rolled to the side, one arm lashing out in panic and sweeping the pillow off the bed along with the switchblade that had been tucked under it.

As the weapon clattered to the floor, I went ahead and grabbed him by both shoulders. "C'mon, Duo. Wake up!" I ordered, giving a little shake.

He jerked sharply, struggling for a minute, until the indigo eyes shot open and took in the identity of the person holding him. "Heero—." And then his arms slid around me in a desperately tight embrace, and he released a sobbing breath. "You're alive—."

He was shaking like a leaf, drawing deep, shuddering breaths as he clung to me, and I realized his back was damp with sweat. The last time I'd seen that sheen of moisture on the pale skin had been on the floor of the cabin, and I felt a twinge of guilt at the rush of warmth it brought to my groin.

"Shh," I soothed, letting him cling—returning the embrace, and rubbing gently on his back. "It's okay. Just a nightmare," I murmured.

Trowa's words echoed in my head. _Comfort him. _I thought maybe I could do that much.

"You were dead," he gasped out, his voice ragged. "Fuck, just like Zechs. Khushrenada was there, with a gun—."

"I'm not dead," I assured him, tightening my grip.

"—and there was blood everywhere—."

"Duo, I'm not dead."

"—your eyes—." He pulled back and looked up at my face, raising a hand to my cheek and stroking a thumb across it. "Not dead," he echoed in a whisper, color beginning to return to his pale skin.

"Not dead," I repeated. And before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in to press a warm, firm kiss to his lips. "Not dead," I mumbled into his mouth as he opened it and let me slide my tongue inside in a teasing, caressing, increasingly heated kiss.

His fingers clutched at my shirt, fisting the material over my shoulder blades as he pressed even closer, moaning into the kiss.

I suddenly remembered him talking about using sex to forget his fears, and for comfort. I didn't want to be just a warm body for him to hang onto; so I started to pull back.

"No, please," he whispered, tightening his grip. "Don't."

"It's not me you want," I murmured into his ear, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of his hair—his skin.

"It _is_," he insisted, his breath hot against my neck. "It's you. Wanted you for _so_ long now—since the first time I saw you. I need you—want you—."

I noticed "love you" didn't follow; but then, did I really expect it to?

"I need to know you're real," he continued, his body molded against mine, "—that you're alive. That it didn't happen like I dreamed it did. Don't leave me alone. _Please_, Heero."

God, why did I have it so bad for him? That simple plea was just impossible to resist. He was so desperate—so lost—and I couldn't make myself pull away. "You're not alone," I told him brushing the softest of kisses over his lips. "Not tonight."

And he wasn't.

It was a far cry from the frantic, rushed sex we'd had on the floor of the last safe house. Instead of being aggressive and hungry, he seemed to want to let me take over. He was almost hesitant, responding to my touch, but not pushing me to hurry. He let me keep my kisses tender, teasing, rather than demanding; in fact, it was like making love to a totally different person. It almost felt like it—meant something.

And I know it did—to me.

I didn't question where he'd gotten the supplies when he pressed them into my hand. I didn't want to think of Barton bringing them, and what he might have been planning to do with them. I didn't want to think of Barton at all—and I didn't want Duo to either.

So I slipped out of my tee shirt and boxers, and concentrated on touching every part of him that I could—as if I was erasing any touches that had gone before. I slid my hands down the lean chest, memorizing each curve of muscle and rib; and I traced the same trail with my lips and tongue, glorying in the power I seemed to have over such a beautiful and feral creature.

He arched into my touch, whispered my name in breathy groans and gasps, and followed me with those deep eyes as if afraid to let me out of his sight.

And I realized as I explored every inch of his body, that back at the cabin when we'd had sex on the floor, he'd done the same thing—watched me—kept his eyes locked on mine even in the heat of passion. He hadn't just been fucking a faceless person—he'd been making love to _me_; watching the play of emotions across my face—watching the effect _he _had on me. It had never been just a convenient fuck for him, no matter how hard he'd tried to pass it off as one later.

You don't caress someone's face with a gaze if they mean nothing to you.

The realization that he'd felt something deeper than lust even then, made my breath catch and the heat in my groin increase tenfold. God, I wanted him! And I wanted him to know it. So I went even slower, kissing along his hip—his thigh—sliding a tongue teasingly down the crack of his ass.

I was rewarded with a gasp and a whimper—a tremor running throughout his body.

Smiling against his skin, I kept going—tasting—stroking—slipping a hand around to knead his ass and caress his entrance. The shiver I got in response was even more pronounced, as his breath caught and a deep moan escaped his lips.

I expected him to make demands—to urge me to fuck him, or curse me for taking too long—but instead he took a harsh, choked breath and tangled a hand in my hair, fingers shaking. I hesitated, wondering if he was okay, and I swear he practically whimpered—so I reached for the lube and quickly coated my fingers, taking just long enough sliding the first one in that he bucked against my hand to hurry it along.

But I didn't let him; I made prepping him into an exercise in restraint, tormenting myself as much as him. I wanted him so badly—wanted to just fuck him through the mattress until we both screamed our release. But at the same time, this was too important to make it into just a quick sexual romp.

So I varied my pace, took my time adding a second and then third finger, and put on the condom slowly and carefully, afraid my own desire would make me come just from that light touch.

But it didn't, and when I had Duo quivering with need, nearly sobbing for more, I thrust into him with all the longing and gentleness I possessed. I wanted to make it mean as much to him as it did to me.

And this time, instead of setting a wild, fevered pace, he waited for me—watched me—and smiled and moaned when I finally moved inside him.

"Alive," he whispered, smiling and stroking my face as I proved how alive I was by sinking even deeper into his body.

And even though he was the one marveling at my life, I was stunned with the realization that I had indeed never felt more alive than I did at that moment. It was—incredible.

Of course it couldn't last forever. As much as I wanted to drown in the pleasure of his body for the rest of my life, I couldn't control the need for release. I'd prolonged it so much already. And after the slowest, sweetest lovemaking of my life…after bringing him to a gasping, writhing orgasm…I finally succumbed.

Murmuring his name reverently, I let go of restraint, thrust deep, and just clung to him in the throes of my release.

And as I did, I heard a whispered "God, 'Ro—thank you."

I didn't reply—merely buried my head against his shoulder, kissing any flesh I could reach and fighting back tears. It was fucking beautiful.

Right at that moment, I wouldn't have traded places with anyone in the world.

He fell asleep within minutes, still entwined with me, still clinging desperately, as if afraid of losing me. And who was I to argue? I wanted to be there just as much as he wanted me there. I wanted it so much I couldn't even rouse myself to go lock the door.

I was almost asleep when I saw the door open a crack, and my first thought was that Chang was about to walk in and find me in Duo's bed. But then a familiar slim figure paused just outside the opening, a shaft of light from the hallway fell across the bed, and green eyes met mine.

Barton didn't say a word. But a sort of wistful smile touched his lips, and he sighed and gave a little nod before closing the door gently. I think he even reached in and turned the lock first.

But what really struck me was that I hadn't seen jealousy in those eyes. None at all. That convinced me more than anything that he truly cared about Duo—that his ex-lover's happiness meant more to him than any petty rivalry. My respect for him doubled in that moment.

Of course, after that instant of panic when I hadn't known who was opening the door, I didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night. Instead I lay there trying to figure out what would happen tomorrow.

How was I supposed to act around Duo? I couldn't very well be open about our relationship in front of Wufei. And was it even a relationship at all?

Duo had acknowledged that all we had was here and now—that it was a moment in time, and eventually would have to end. So did he expect me to back off? Or did he think we could continue to steal moments in dark corners and quiet rooms?

Sooner or later, Chang would catch on. And then it would be all up for grabs. He could report me to Captain Po and have me pulled from the case—or even brought up on charges. Fraternizing with a witness was against so many regulations it could end my career in a heartbeat.

But would Chang do that to me? We'd worked together for years—been casual friends as well as colleagues. And I felt we'd grown closer of late, and that he might even be able to handle finding out I was gay, eventually.

But _this_? Could he deal with this?

I looked at the chestnut head nestled against my shoulder, feeling the soft breath across my chest and the warm arm wrapped around me. It was worth the risk, I decided. If all I had with Duo was the here and now, I'd have to take a chance and hope that Wufei never caught us. Because I damn sure knew I needed every moment—every instant I could get with Duo. After he moved into the relocation program, I didn't want to feel like I'd wasted any more time than I had to.


	34. Docking Maneuvers

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Four: Docking Maneuvers

The sky was starting to pale, and I realized Chang would be coming to switch shifts with me. The last thing I needed was for him to find the door locked, or me in Maxwell's bed.

I slipped out from under the arm that was flung across my chest, eliciting only the smallest murmur of protest from my sleeping witness. Then I tucked my pillow in next to him, and he sort of snuggled into it, pulling it up against himself without ever fully waking. I found myself staring at his face, his features softened in sleep.

God—what was I thinking letting myself get this close? I might as well just admit it by that point—I definitely felt more for the brash young man than I'd ever felt for a lover in the past. My carelessly uttered words to Barton had been pretty much right on the mark.

_Nice going, Yuy._

I grabbed my clothes and slipped out of the room—heading for the bathroom for a quick shower. I was toweling off when I heard Chang knock and tell me everything had been quiet, he'd left fresh coffee brewing, and that he was going to grab a couple of hours of sleep before going to town with Winner for groceries.

I was kind of relieved that I didn't have to look him in the eye as I told him Maxwell had spent a quiet night and was still asleep. It wasn't a complete lie, but I had a feeling my blush would have given me away.

Once I heard his footsteps fade away down the hall, I threw on my clothes and headed downstairs.

Trowa looked up as I entered the kitchen, giving a short nod, and gesturing to the freshly brewed coffee. "Help yourself."

I gave a wry snort. "Should I point out I already did? Twice." Yeah, there was no point beating around the bush with him—he'd seen me in Duo's bed—in Duo's arms.

He chuckled. "At least you're starting to show a sense of humor, Yuy. I was beginning to despair."

Sighing, I walked over and poured myself a cup of coffee. "It doesn't change the fact that this is all only temporary."

"Have a little faith."

"In what?"

"In Duo. When he finds something he wants, he grabs it with both hands."

"He can't. He's got to be relocated far from Khushrenada—out of his reach. And knowing how far his reach extends—well, you do the math."

"You could go with him."

I turned sharply, fixing a wary gaze on Trowa. "No. I can't. I'm a cop, Barton. I have a job…a life…"

"Small price to pay for someone like Duo."

"They don't let you bring friends into witness relocation anyway," I pointed out. "Even if I wanted to go, they'd never allow it. Hell, I don't know what you'd call what Duo and I have—but it's not—official." I shook my head. "It's not even legal."

"Again with the humor," came a warmer reply. "Trust me—legality's never been a big issue for Duo—about anything."

"No shit."

"If you want to find a way to be with him, you will."

"Damn it, Barton!" I exploded, nearly jostling the coffee out of my cup with a sudden jerky movement. "I don't even know if he wants me to be! Let alone what _I _want!"

"You want him."

"Okay—that much is obvious." I calmed down a little, getting a grip on myself. "Look, while I appreciate you looking out for him, I think this discussion belongs between him and me."

He nodded, once again wearing that annoyingly knowing smirk. "Good answer," he shrugged, turning at the sound of footsteps in the living room and smiling warmly as Quatre walked in.

"Good morning!" chirped the too-cheerful lawyer. His blue eyes passed right over me, with just a suggestion of a knowing look, and settled on Trowa. "You didn't wake me," he accused, walking over and slipping his arms around the slim waist, reaching up to kiss the stripper full on the lips right in front of me.

"Uh—I'll—just go then," I sputtered, uncomfortable with their open display of affection. At the same time, I was a little jealous of it. Chang couldn't say jack shit about their relationship, and yet I couldn't even consider running a hand down Duo's braid in front of him. It wasn't fair.

I walked out into the living room, and considered going back upstairs to just sit on my bed and watch Duo sleep—it was such a soothing and pleasant occupation. But then I decided I'd better check the security logs for the time between Chang's going upstairs and my coming down.

I settled in at the computer and brought up the feeds, starting with diagnostics and calibrations, and within minutes was deeply engrossed in studying all the previous night's footage.

* * *

I'm not sure how much time elapsed—at least an hour—but when the soft patter of feet on the stairs alerted me to Duo's arrival, I looked up over the screen to greet him, eager to see a welcoming light in those normally-defiant indigo eyes.

All I caught was the flick of a braid and the sight of his back as he went swiftly into the kitchen.

_Well, shit. Had he been—pissed?_

I'd expected at least a "good morning," if not a teasing "hey lover" or suggestive comment of some sort.

Scowling, I flicked ahead through the security vids, wanting to finish so I could talk to him, and find out what on Earth I'd done wrong _this _time. I knew he wasn't mad about the sex—he'd wanted it all along. And the whispered thanks at the end had told me how much it meant to him.

So what was his problem?

I suddenly realized I'd been too busy pondering his mood to actually _look _at what I was doing; so I rechecked several of the intervals I'd just run. Goddamn it, he was distracting! But before I'd satisfactorily finished the review, he came bursting out of the kitchen again, coffee cup in one hand, and Trowa's hand in the other.

"We'll be down at the dock," he threw out carelessly as they breezed past and headed out onto the deck and down the stairs to the yard.

I didn't even get in my usual warning to be careful or let me go along for safety's sake. But I instantly zoomed in the mini cams nearest the boat house so that I had a clear view of the dock and the surrounding landscape.

Quatre sauntered out of the kitchen as I was finishing. "Well, Yuy, how was _your _night?"

I splayed a palm over my face, sensing an upcoming cross-examination. "What did your client tell you?"

"My _friend _seemed a bit unsettled this morning," he said with a hint of a smirk, walking around behind me to look over my shoulder at the computer screen.

I looked up as well, noting that Duo and Trowa had reached the dock and walked out to the end to sit with their feet dangling in the water. Duo was leaning up against his former lover, who had an arm casually draped around his shoulders.

"He told Trowa they needed to talk," Winner spoke up.

"Did he say about what?"

"Well…" Quatre pondered a moment, frowning in thought. "I don't know if that'd be privileged communication or not…" He looked genuinely uncertain, and finally settled into the chair opposite me, gazing earnestly at my face. "I think…he's scared."

"No shit," I snorted. "Khushrenada's got killers all over the country looking for him."

"No, I think he's scared of—his feelings."

I blinked, and looked back at Quatre. "What feelings?"

"For you."

I forced my gaze back to the computer screen. "Look, counselor—we both know he's a flirt and a tease. And I've no doubt he told you about what happened at the last safe house—between him and me. But _feelings_—? I don't know if they enter the picture for him."

He glared back sternly. "You know they do. You know he's more than interested in you."

"I also know he's killing time until he goes into relocation," I pointed out. "And he and I talked about 'having a moment' along the way. So what's suddenly got him so wound up?"

The attorney looked at the screen, watching as Trowa's hand rubbed soothingly on Duo's back as the two men exchanged words, their heads close together in deep conversation. "I think," Quatre said carefully, "that when it was just for fun, and Duo was just flirting and teasing, that it was something he could handle. But now that it's gotten serious…"

"Who said that?" I asked quickly—sharply.

"Duo did. He told Trowa he was in 'seriously deep shit,' and Trowa said 'you mean love?'"

I looked so hard at Winner that he sat back a little as if intimidated. "How did Duo answer him?"

"He said he didn't know—that they needed to talk—and did I mind if they went somewhere they could be alone." He gave a slight shrug. "I didn't hear the rest; they were already heading for the door. But Trowa mumbled something about last night, and Duo replied with something about waking up alone—getting mixed signals—."

"Fuck!" I was torn between frustration and remorse. It hadn't even occurred to me that Duo had expected, or at least _wanted_, to find me still in his bed when he woke up. And while that would have been a wonderful place to be, it wouldn't have been very wise. Chang might have decided to pop in to wake me—and had he found the door locked, he'd have been awfully suspicious.

Quatre sighed, his expression knowing. "You left him in bed alone?"

"You didn't wake up with Barton," I pointed out, casting an accusing look at the lawyer.

"True—but I'm secure enough to know he'd just gone for a cup of coffee."

"Duo should have known I had a shift to attend to," I retorted defensively. "Y'know—security? Or have we all forgotten why we're here?"

"No one's forgotten," Winner assured me. "And as for Duo, he'll calm down," he predicted. "Judging by the slightly wild look in his eyes, I'm guessing he's a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of getting close to you—emotionally. And he's trying to convince himself you're not serious, and that it's just for fun."

"He should know I don't do things 'just for fun,'" I pointed out. "Especially not things like—last night."

This time the lawyer definitely smirked. "So what _did _happen last night?"

I scowled back at him. "None of your business."

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Wufei came down the stairs, yawning and running a hand back through his hair. "Gods," he sighed. "Who knew two hours could pass so quickly?"

I glanced at the clock, and sure enough, it had probably been almost two hours since he'd tapped on the bathroom door to tell me he was headed for bed. Between my conversation with Barton, reviewing security logs, and having my soul picked apart by Winner, I'd hardly noticed the passage of time.

"Shall I make a fresh pot of coffee?" Quatre asked brightly, standing up and turning to face my partner.

"I could use a cup before we head off to get groceries," came the eager reply. "Where's Maxwell?"

"On the dock with Barton," I replied quickly, wanting to assure my partner I knew the exact location of our protected witness at all times.

He gave a curt nod. "I assume you've got plenty of sensors set to go off if anyone gets within shooting range?"

"Of course!"

His smile was disarming—probably because it was such a rarity. "I knew you hadn't lost your edge, Yuy."

I glared back. "And when was that in doubt?" I asked coolly.

He gave a mock-sigh, shaking his head. "Where to begin? Shall we start with allowing that horrid music in the car? Or the smoking? Or stopping to watch a sunrise?"

"Allowing our protected witness a few liberties doesn't mean I've lost my edge," I growled irritably.

"Just your sanity," smirked Wufei, annoyingly chipper for someone who'd only slept a couple of hours.

"The only thing I might've lost," I said, narrowing my eyes pointedly, "is the stick up my ass to match the one in yours."

"Touché!" Quatre chuckled.

Chang just darted a snide look at him. "Weren't you going to make coffee?"

Winner nodded affably. "Sure. Come join me in the kitchen and maybe I'll even throw some bread in the toaster for you."

I watched them leave, and then returned my attention to the computer screen, trying to assure myself there was nothing to be jealous of in the way Duo and Trowa leaned into one another as they talked.

If Barton was gracious enough to not envy my place in Duo's bed, I had no right to envy his position as Duo's friend and confidant.

On the other hand, I really wanted to talk to Duo myself. It seemed like I'd spoken to everyone about Duo, except Duo. And I thought maybe it was time to change that.

I set the computer to automatically monitor our surveillance, and tucked a small remote in my shirt pocket. It would sound an alert if the computer detected trouble—and thus allowed me to not be chained to the desk at all times.

The first place I went was the kitchen, to find out the plan for the day's activities. Quatre and Wufei were leaning against the counter near the coffee machine, waiting for a new pot to brew and talking about chess, of all things. Apparently they both enjoyed the game, and seemed to be planning to play when they got back from errands.

"So, what time are you heading out?" I asked Winner, walking over to join them.

"As soon as Wufei has his coffee," Quatre replied.

I nodded, trying to look casual. "Is Barton going with you?"

Astute aquamarine eyes shot me an amused glance. "Do you want him to?" he asked slyly.

Damn him! He knew perfectly well that I did. He knew I wanted to be alone with Duo, and he fucking knew why!

I managed a droll look. "Don't _you_? I mean, you two have been more or less attached at the hip…" _Quite literally, I'm sure. _

He caught the unsubtle innuendo at once, giving me a dirty look.

I smiled sweetly. "I just assumed you couldn't bear to be out of each other's sight."

His glare deepened. "I'm sure we'd survive."

And then Chang, totally misinterpreting my line of questioning, decided to butt in. "Winner, if you want to bring your boyfriend along, I'm sure I can tolerate the calf eyes you'll be exchanging—all right?"

Quatre looked a bit surprised at that, and turned his attention away from me. "Seriously, Chang? It doesn't—disgust you?"

Wufei sighed deeply. "While I'm not the most tolerant person, Winner, I do understand that others are entitled to their—preferences." He shrugged slightly. "I think as long as you observe simple rules of behavior and decency in public, I can be open-minded about your relationship. Okay?"

"Holy shit," I muttered, shaking my head. "I think I need something stronger than coffee to drink."

"Fuck you, Yuy," growled my partner, pouring a cup from the freshly-brewed pot and stalking out into the living room.

I chuckled aloud as Winner shook his head. "Yuy!" he chided. "Don't tease him. He's trying."

"I know," I grinned back. "He's very trying."

"And you should be glad his tolerance is increasing. It might be very important to you before long."

I darted a wary look at him. "You won't tell him—."

"Of course not. But I think he'll begin to see it for himself, if he hasn't already." He gave me an understanding look from the soft blue eyes. "It's hard to hide the light in your eyes when you look at Duo."

I blinked my eyes, looking uneasily away from him.

"It's okay," he said softly. "You've both been lonely a lot in your lives, I think. You've needed someone, even if you didn't know it."

"I knew it," I said curtly, not trying to deny the truth he spoke. "I just didn't acknowledge it before."

"Well now that you have, don't you think it's time to act on it, for both of you?"

I opened my mouth to remind him of our pending separation, and then decided to just shut the hell up. As I said before, Duo was the one I needed to talk to.

"I think I've already acted on it," I said frankly. "And now, we'll just have to see what happens."

"Why don't you take a walk down to the dock?" Quatre suggested. "Tell Trowa that Wufei and I are ready to leave. And then you could just stay there and—guard—Duo. Or whatever it is you detectives do to keep protected witnesses safe." He had a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Don't expect us back before late afternoon."

And here I'd been thinking Quatre Winner was a subtle man; at least he'd appeared that way when I'd seen him in the courtroom.

"Yeah, take your time," I drawled snidely, heading out to the living room.

I met Barton just coming in from the deck, and he gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, detective," he said with a teasing lilt to his voice. "I left Duo safe and sound relaxing by the lake. He said being near the water helps him think."

"I'll have to try that some day," I replied.

Wufei was standing by the laptop, keeping an eye on the surveillance as he finished his coffee, and he looked up at the two of us. "Ready to go, Barton?"

Trowa cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sure you can stand being cooped up in a car with Quat and me for a couple of hours?"

"If I tolerated Maxwell in a closed car for nearly twenty-four hours, playing his music, smoking his cigarettes, and hitting on Yuy, I think I can manage a little trip to the grocery store with you two."

Trowa gave a wicked grin. "We'll have to see if we can be as entertaining."

"Don't feel obligated," Wufei sighed.

They were heading for the kitchen even as they traded amazingly amicable banter, and I had a momentarily surreal feeling that Maxwell had replaced Chang with a look-alike while Trowa, Quatre and I were out boating the day before; he was being so stunningly pleasant.

To give him credit, his attitude had been moderating gradually ever since Barton and Winner first arrived—but in the past twenty-four hours, he seemed to have reached some sort of epiphany.

"Chang?"

He paused, letting Barton precede him into the kitchen.

"What exactly happened yesterday while we were gone?"

"I told you," he said evenly. "Maxwell sketched awhile, I taught him to meditate a bit, and then I watched a goddamned news broadcast just about rip his heart out."

Ah. That's right. I'd almost forgotten Chang had been the one to try to keep Duo from going off the deep end when he thought the orphans had been killed. Apparently sharing the traumatic event with our witness had affected his attitude towards him. No wonder he finally gave a damn about Maxwell's survival.

"That doesn't explain why you're suddenly getting along so well with Barton and Winner."

He gave a rather weary sigh. "Yuy—if you suddenly realized your entire perception of someone had been faulty, wouldn't you question every perception you had?"

I pondered that for a moment, and then shook my head. "Our perception of Khushrenada was right, Chang. Don't start doubting your instincts now—at least not all of them."

This time a smile crossed his face. "Actually, I was wrong about Khushrenada, too. He's far more evil than I'd thought at first. I'd assumed the man had a spark of honor."

I smiled tightly. "I never gave him that much credit."

"Which is why I admire your ability to 'read' people, Yuy. You don't let your own prejudices and preconceptions cloud your vision."

"Don't flatter me, Chang. I can be wrong just as easily as you can." I gestured to the kitchen. "Still—I'm glad you're up for giving Barton and Winner a second chance. Now, let's get you three on your way. I want to go down to the dock where I can keep a better eye on our witness."

* * *

It didn't take long to get them on their way, with cautions about watching where they went and who they spoke to, and especially avoiding being followed on the way back. And yes, I think all three of them accused me of stating the obvious.

Once they were out the door, piling into the SUV, I went back into the kitchen, threw together a couple of sandwiches, and grabbed some fruit and drinks, tossing it all into a plastic grocery bag before heading out to find Duo.

He was still sitting at the end of the dock, dangling his feet in the water.

"Getting pretty brave for someone who can't swim, aren't you?" I asked quietly, setting my makeshift lunch bag down at the start of the dock.

He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "I don't plan on falling in."

"The best laid plans…" I cautioned, walking over and sitting beside him—leaving just enough room so we weren't quite touching. "Speaking of laid—or _getting _laid—," I added. "Maybe it's time we talked."

He gave a wry snort. "Talking's not your forte, Yuy."

"No," I conceded. "I tend to let my actions speak for me."

"Well lately they haven't had much to say," he pointed out. "Look—I know you think I'm a slut and a shallow, selfish asshole—but you weren't just a convenient fuck." He glanced sideways at me, looking terribly uncomfortable and uncertain. "Either time. Seriously," he added earnestly. "I wanted you the minute I laid eyes on you—an' I mean three _years _ago. And I know I flirt and I tease and I come across as pretty loose—but—I'm not as much of a tramp as you think I am."

"Would you just shut up?" I asked sternly, bringing his uneasy babbling to a stop.

"I don't just sleep with any guy I see—."

"Maxwell—."

"I have to be more than just physically attracted—."

"Duo!"

He stopped, tensing his shoulders and looking down at the water. "Sorry—it's just you confuse the hell out of me, and when I'm nervous I—."

I grabbed his chin and turned his face so I could kiss him—deeply and thoroughly.

And I even managed to keep my wits about me, and not get lost in the sweetness of his kiss or the warmth of his embrace, as his arms slipped around my waist.

Eventually I let him up for air.

His eyes stayed closed as he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his breathing a bit ragged. "What—? What are you tryin' to say?" he asked in a near-whisper.

Ah—and here I was hoping that my actions would have covered all the multitude of feelings I was having.

"It wasn't just a convenient fuck for me, either," I admitted. "You're beautiful—attractive—. Hell, you're addictive! And I wanted you the second I had you pinned up against that car. Maybe even that day you got dragged in by those two fucking pricks who didn't deserve to wear the uniform." My fingers traced the curve of his face, brushing wisps of hair back from his eyes. "I don't know why I fell so hard so fast—but as much as I fought to not want you—it just wasn't possible."

"Why fight it then?" he asked, raising his head and putting those petal-soft lips on my collarbone. "Why fight _me _so hard that I had to get desperate and crazy enough to pull a gun on you? Would it have been so bad to just give in?"

"For me—yes," I said frankly. "My whole life has been about control and duty. My guardian insisted on discipline and regimentation—and complete dedication to a cause. And my cause became detective work. I was never able to be open about my sexual orientation—or much else, for that matter. Giving in to what my body wants—while on duty—? Can't you see how hard that'd be for me?"

"I guess I can," he admitted, looking back down at the still water of the lake. "So—what now? Now that you've given in to your—wants—how d'you expect me to act?" He looked up at me with a frown. "What do you want from me?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. "We can't be obvious, Duo. If Wufei finds out I'm gay—."

"What if he did?" challenged Maxwell.

"You've heard what he thinks of gays."

Despite Chang's improved attitude towards Winner and Barton, I didn't think his opinions had changed to complete acceptance—especially not where I was concerned. I was his partner, and if he knew I'd been lying for years, he might never trust me again.

"I've heard a lot of angry bullshit from him—enough to know he got shafted by someone in a gang at some point—a _gay _someone. Or maybe he got hit on or propositioned. Hell, maybe someone copped a feel. But any way you look at it, he's got a personal issue there. It's not about me—or you. It's all in his own mind."

"Yes, but if he knew I was gay—." I shrugged helplessly. "Chang and I have been together since we were rookies. I respect that man an awful lot. I've trusted him with my life—."

"But not with your secret."

"I can't."

"You know he'd never spread that information around."

I nodded.

"So what're you afraid of?"

"Losing his respect—his friendship."

"If it's respect based on your achievements instead of your sexual preferences, you wouldn't lose it," Duo argued reasonably.

"And if it's not?"

"Then I'm not sure it's worth having," he said thoughtfully. "I just can't peg Wuffers as the type to condemn a long-time friend based solely on their sexuality. But if he would—how much of a friend _is _he?"

"He's one of the few I have," I admitted. "I don't want to risk losing him." Not to mention he could still get me thrown off the case for improper conduct, taking me away from Duo all that much sooner.

"Give him a chance, Heero. He might surprise you."

"After," I said wearily. "Once we get through this whole thing—through the trial—then I _will _come clean with him."

Duo squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You'll be glad you did—no matter the results, 'Ro. It'll be a weight off your chest."

Meanwhile, he leaned back against me until _his _weight was on my chest, and his cheek was next to mine—the scent of his shampoo filling my senses. I wrapped an arm around his waist, sliding my hand under his shirt and across the flat stomach.

"Mmm—nice," he purred, snuggling closer.

Then I got a horribly wicked, mischievous idea—and for once I decided to go for it. I started unfastening the buttons of his shirt, hearing a slightly startled gasp as my hands brushed his skin intimately.

"Hey, Maxwell?" I whispered huskily, loving the way he shivered at the sound of my voice. "Wanna try something new?"

His breath caught, and the half-lidded eyes shot open to fix me with a startled and then lustful look. "Sure," he agreed in a breathy whisper. "Anything ya want."

I got up, pulling him to his feet and turning him to face me, before slipping his shirt off his shoulders, caressing his arms as I slid it down and dropped it onto the dock. "Take your pants off."

He didn't even hesitate, but stripped off his jeans in a few well-practiced motions.

Fuck! Of course he wasn't wearing anything under them. I allowed my gaze to slide hungrily over the lean muscles and flat plains of his body.

"Goddamn, you're gorgeous," I blurted helplessly.

He gave me a cheeky grin, despite the blush that crept up his face. "Y'look in a mirror lately, Yuy?" he chided, slipping his arms around my neck. "You're fuckin' unbelievable."

"Best fuck you ever had?" I couldn't help asking, though part of me prayed he didn't give me a flippant answer.

The indigo eyes met mine steadily, fire burning in their depths. "Shit no," he breathed heatedly. "You're way more than just a fuck, 'Ro."

I could feel the wide smile that spread across my face, and found that I was too choked up for words. So I swooped in to express the depth of my emotions with a deep, hungry kiss instead. He melted up against me, growling low in his throat.

Then I threw him into the lake.

No—really! I did!

He floundered for a moment, clearly panicked, those wide eyes looking accusingly at me as he thrashed in the water.

"Stand up," I ordered. "It's only waist deep."

He complied, almost automatically, and then glared up at me. "What the _fuck_, Yuy?"

"Since you were scared about learning to swim, I thought I just wouldn't ask."

"So you fuckin' tossed me into ice-cold water?" he demanded, shivering.

"You said you wanted to try something new." I shrugged out of my clothes quickly, laying my gun and the sensor alarm on top of the pile, and then hopping in beside him, receiving a furious glare for my trouble. "Besides, I planned to warm you up," I told him in a placating tone, holding out both arms.

He hesitated, and I could see his righteous indignation warring with desire.

Was I ever glad when desire won out and he came into my embrace!

"Sorry," I whispered into his ear, nibbling gently at it before proceeding down to the side of his neck and kissing and licking the deliciously wet skin. "Does this help?"

He shivered again—but I doubted it was from the cold. "Ah—oooh—that's—that's nice."

"You think so?" I asked, delighting in the way he responded to every touch with such obvious pleasure.

"Yeah," he gasped, tilting his head back to give me access to his throat.

I curled one hand around the back of his neck, stroking lovingly with my fingers as my lips traced his neck with teasing kisses, and my other hand slid down to his groin.

"God, you are fucking _hot_," I breathed, taking his length into my hand and starting a slow, teasing rhythm.

"Jesus Christ!" he blurted, reaching back to steady himself against the dock.

After that, he seemed pretty much relegated to gasps, moans, and little mewls of pleasure that had me panting against his skin as I gradually sped up and brought him to completion. When I felt the heat of his release against my hand, I pulled him in for a lip-locking, tongue-twisting kiss that nearly made me come as well.

He was gasping for breath by the time I let him up for air, and he sagged against me until I could feel the pounding of his heart against my skin.

"You—you're—." He looked up at me with those pools of indigo, his face flushed even though we were still in the cool water of the lake. "God, 'Ro, you're fuckin' amazing," he finally managed in a ragged voice.

Then I felt his hand close around my still-raging erection. "Tell me what you want," he whispered. "Anything. I'll do anything for you."

"Want you," I growled in response, pushing him back and lifting him so he could wrap his legs around my waist.

"You've got me," he promised, his hands gripping my shoulders as I slid the first finger into him.

I really meant to take my time—but the need was so great by then that things progressed all too fast. Unlike our slow, soothing lovemaking the night before, this was frantic and fiery—it was a wonder the water around us didn't end up boiling by the time he was stretched and ready and I was sliding into him, groaning at the increasingly familiar tightness and heat. In spite of being half submerged in cold water, I felt like I was overheating just from the contact with his body.

"Aw, fuck, Duo—," I gasped out, thrusting hard enough to pin him against the dock, though he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he thrust back just as hard, panting and letting out an occasional ragged groan whenever I brushed against his prostate. No matter how much I wanted the moment to last, I couldn't hold out when I felt him come again—and I grabbed and held him tight as I plunged in deep and let my release just wash over me.

And afterwards, we stood panting in the waist-deep water, clinging to one another and the stability of that old wooden dock as we savored the moment.

"So…" I rasped rather hoarsely. "How 'bout those swimming lessons, seeing as we're already wet?"

He grinned wearily back at me. "If that's what swimming's all about, I'm sorry I never learned before."

With our lust temporarily sated, we actually did manage to fit in some swimming.

I soon decided that if learning to swim made Duo cling desperately to me, it was worth every moment.

I eased us into chest-deep water, and since his arms were around my neck, he hardly seemed to notice. "Okay—I'm going to put my arms out straight, and you lie across them, with your legs out behind you and your arms out front."

He looked at me with adorable uncertainty, and I gave him a reassuring nod. "Trust me."

He did, and he obeyed, and I have to say, that was one seriously erotic position, with his bare ass sticking up out of the water and the feel of his smooth skin against my arms.

We began with the basic dog-paddle, which sent Duo into a fit of laughter, and started him making lewd references to doggie-style sex. Of course, that almost led to us _having _said sex—but I managed to keep us more or less on task—and within a few minutes, Duo could do a respectable dog-paddle from me to the dock and then back. I rewarded him with a kiss.

Okay, so maybe we did some making out between lessons. And of course whenever he mastered a particular task, I kissed him senseless as a reward. We also took a couple of breaks to wolf down lunch and our drinks.

That's probably why it took us the better part of the day to finish. Besides, when Duo cracked up over the breast stroke, assuring me that he just _wasn't_ into breasts, and then insisted the dead man's float was just plain morbid, he kept delaying our progress. But what delightful progress it was—just the two of us under the warm sun, playing in the water like we hadn't a care in the world.

* * *

Mid afternoon found us lying side by side on the dock, letting the warm rays of the sun dry us off, since I hadn't thought to bring towels and neither of us had the ambition to walk up to the house and get some.

Duo had unbound his hair and fanned it out on the dock to let it dry, and I was irresistibly drawn to stretch one hand out and lay it across the silken strands, enjoying the feel of it against my wrist and fingers.

And as I watched clouds float lazily past in a startlingly blue sky, I decided I'd never been so utterly happy in my life. I didn't think about the past or the future—neither had much meaning right then.

Duo's hand was on my stomach, fingers lazily tracing across my abs in a soothingly familiar way that made me feel like I'd do anything to hold on to that moment in time.

"This is nice," came a soft voice, echoing my thoughts uncannily.

"Yeah."

He wriggled a little, stretching his legs and then laying them on the warm wood again. "'Cept maybe next time I should call 'top,'" he added.

"Oh. Sore?" I asked apologetically.

"Well lake water doesn't make the best lube."

I couldn't help a rueful chuckle—but then a thought intruded on my amusement. "Hey, how come—? I mean, the other times we—y'know—you gave me—." God, why was I so embarrassed to just talk to him about sex? "Protection," I finally blurted. "We didn't use it this time." I glanced over at him. "I'm sorry. I should have thought to bring it—or go get it—."

He was grinning at my discomfort, his eyes half-closed as he turned his face to the sun. "'S okay, 'Ro." He reached over to his discarded clothes and, always the prepared sex-fiend, pulled out a small, easily recognizable object. "I didn't forget."

"So—what does that mean?"

"Means I trust you," he shrugged.

I was a little stunned that he'd place that much faith in a cop he'd only really known for a couple of weeks. "You trust me that much? You hardly know me."

"I know all I need to," he replied calmly. "I can trust you with my life, 'Ro, and not just because it's your job."

I picked up his hand and brought it to my lips, still looking at the shimmering summer sky. "Duo?"

"Hm?" he purred, like a sleepy cat.

"I love you."

He rolled so he was facing me, the indigo eyes searching my face. "You mean it, don't you?" he breathed in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Hai," I admitted.

A soft smile curled his lips. "I gotta be the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth," he said warmly, leaning in to place a soft, almost chaste kiss on my lips. "I don't think I deserve you—but I'm pretty sure I don't care."

"Does that mean you plan to keep me around?" I asked teasingly.

"As long as you'll stay," he said with determination, though a flicker of worry passed through his eyes. "As long as I can."

_Can what? Keep me? Or stay, yourself?_

Oh God. Reality slapped me in the face—hard. This couldn't last forever. But I wanted it to—more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. And I vowed if there was a way for us to stay together, I'd find it. I'd do whatever it took—give anything up—if it meant I could be with him forever.


	35. Contingencies

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Five: Contingencies

Duo and I decided to get up and dress before the proximity alarm went off to alert us to our companions' return. There was no point in waiting until the last minute and risking detection—though it might have been vaguely amusing to watch Chang's face pale at the sight of us sunbathing in the nude.

"Shit—your leg!" Duo said suddenly, running a hand over the healing slash on my thigh as I was pulling up my pants. "I almost forgot that," he said somberly.

"It's just about healed," I assured him, not minding the feel of his fingers on my skin.

Indeed, the week-old wound had scabbed over nicely, and between soaking in the hot tub and the lake, had shed the scab to reveal new scar tissue underneath.

"Still—," he said with a frown. "You got shot for me, Heero. And after I screwed us all by going out clubbing."

"You didn't screw us, Duo. Hilde did—along with whoever in the precinct let Khushrenada know Winner was helping you."

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Stop," he chided. "I like the Heero Yuy who doesn't bullshit me and coddle me, y'know."

"I'm not doing either," I asserted, brushing his hand aside and finishing getting dressed. "It really _wasn't _entirely your fault."

He shook his head, pulling on his shirt, but leaving it unbuttoned. "Man starts throwing around the 'L' word, and he just turns into a sentimental sap…" he muttered under his breath, bringing his damp hair over his shoulder and starting to finger-comb it.

"Let me," I urged, stepping over and pulling the silky tresses back behind him, running my fingers through it until it hung smoothly down his back—and then continuing to just enjoy the sensation.

"Told ya you had a hair fetish—oh—nice," he crooned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Stop it, I love it."

I chuckled, and wrapped my arms around him from behind so I could tuck my cheek up next to his. "I don't have a hair fetish; I have a Duo fetish."

"Poor fool," he sighed in mock regret. "You seriously got the short end of the stick. My prospects aren't great, ya know."

"As long as I'm here to protect you, they're damn good," I assured him. "I've never lost a witness yet."

"And how many have you protected, _Detective_ Yuy?" Yeah, he knew watching over witnesses wasn't usually detective work.

"Counting you?"

"Mm-hm."

"One." I gave him a squeeze. "So far I'm at one hundred percent success."

"Seeing as I'm still alive, I suppose you are."

I let go of him, and he set to work braiding his hair.

I tried not to watch in rapt fascination, and so I turned my attention back to the sensor, noting a blinking signal at the farthest point on the road into the lake house. "Looks like the guys are getting back," I noted.

"Party's over?"

I looked quickly at him, getting a shy, rueful smile in return. "Nothing's over, Duo," I said firmly. "Aside from toning it down in front of Chang, I don't expect things to change between us. You know how I feel about you; and I expect you to remember that."

"It'd be hard to forget," he said in a husky voice, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before finishing off his braid and tossing it over a shoulder. "So let's get up to the house and see if they brought us something good for supper."

Our three companions were carrying bags of groceries into the kitchen as we entered the living room through the sliding doors.

"Tro'! Guess what!" Duo blurted, grabbing the bag out of Barton's arms and setting it aside on the counter. "I learned how to swim today!"

Barton smiled widely, his green eyes warming with affection as he gave Duo a quick peck on the cheek. "Good for you," he congratulated his former lover. "Maybe now Yuy will let us take you out canoeing in the moonlight."

"Or—he could do it himself," Winner spoke up, his too-knowing eyes sliding a sidelong glance at me. He turned to the refrigerator to start putting things away on the shelves. "I take it you had a nice day?"

"Yeah," Duo said eagerly, slipping past him to steal a fresh peach. "Yuy's better company than Chang any day." He smirked sweetly at my partner, who was bringing in the last of the bags. "No offense."

"None taken," shrugged Wufei, looking vaguely amused.

Apparently his good mood of that morning hadn't been destroyed by an extended amount of time with Winner and Barton. And, much to my relief, his willingness to banter was extending to Duo now, as well. He really _was _learning to lighten up—thank God.

"Wow, Quat—I could make you a killer peach cobbler if you wanted," Duo told his lawyer, brandishing the peach he'd just rinsed in the sink.

"That would make a great dessert," Quatre agreed. "And Wufei said you wanted to make some kind of chicken dish for dinner?"

"Yep. Secret recipe," he said mysteriously, biting into the peach, and then slurping as the juice dribbled over his fingers. "Mm—nice an' ripe," he noted. "These'll be perfect."

"Yuy—we got some small packages of trail mix, beef jerky, dried fruit, and powdered electrolytes," Chang informed me, interrupting my fascinating study of how Duo ate peaches. "Would you like to inventory them and see if we missed anything?"

"Right after supper," I told him. "Did you guys get lunch on the road, or do we need to feed you now?"

"We ate," he assured me. "You?"

"Sandwiches on the dock," I answered.

I marveled that Chang and the others seemed oblivious to the fact that Duo and I had made love virtually all day. How could they not see the faint marks on his neck, or the very obvious flushed and sated look on his face?

I did, and I thought he'd never looked so enticing. The occasional glance he flicked my way seemed to indicate he felt the same about me. At least, I hoped he did.

Duo was telling Quatre about all the swimming strokes he'd learned, while unwrapping a package of chicken parts, and Trowa joined Wufei and me at the door. "We may as well leave those two alone. I think Duo's drafted Quat to help him cook."

It was more likely Duo wanted to brag to his lawyer that he'd successfully and permanently seduced his bodyguard. But I didn't see any way to prevent that.

So Chang, Barton and I went to the living room and flicked on a news channel, catching up on the most recent events, including a brief mention that the orphanage fire covered the previous day hadn't resulted in any deaths, and was still under investigation by police.

_Way to put a lid on it, Po. _I was glad she'd been able to squelch the media hype and get the story shoved into a two-minute update segment. No fuss, no bother.

"No problems with surveillance today?" Wufei asked me, walking towards the computer setup.

"None at—." I stopped in horror, recalling that if Chang called up the day's recordings there'd be some wonderful footage of Duo and me on the dock. "No!" I said sharply, moving quickly to intercept.

He paused, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean—it was quiet all day. I was just going to run the logs on the long-range scanners," I told him. I gave a quick, insincere smile. "Technical stuff, Chang. Better let me handle it."

He sighed huffily. "I'm not exactly inept when it comes to technology you know, Yuy."

"Yes, I know," I assured him. "It's just—they're my devices, and I'm really the expert here, now aren't I?"

He gave me a funny look, as if I'd said something odd, and it occurred to me I must have sounded defensive. "Were you out in the sun too much today?" he asked bluntly.

_Yes—stark naked under the sun with Duo. _Like I'd tell _Chang _that?

"It's probably that he was stuck with Duo too long," Trowa spoke up from across the room. I caught a glimpse of sly green eyes under the mop of auburn hair. "You know how it is, Chang—a Maxwell overdose?"

Wufei snorted wryly, turning away from the computer and walking over to look out the sliding doors. "If we could overdose on Maxwell's abundance of personality, both Yuy and I would be dead by now."

I busied myself making a tiny window on the computer screen, and calling up the dock camera footage so I could quickly delete the entire day. Of course, I suffered a momentary pang of regret—I might've liked to watch that segment myself, just to relive some wonderful moments. But then, I had the real thing in the next room. Why waste time on a video?

After I finished covering my ass, I began going over the remainder of the vids, with specific attention to any near the house that might have overlapped the dock area.

Fortunately, there were none, though I noticed a glitch in two of the sensors I'd placed across the lake the previous day.

"Well shit," I muttered, starting a diagnostic sequence.

"What?" asked my partner, coming to stand behind me.

"Two of the newest sensors I put out are malfunctioning."

"Faulty?"

I frowned at the screen. "If it were one, I'd say 'yes' in a heartbeat. But two—?"

Chang was instantly on the alert. "Are you saying they picked up activity?"

"No—that's the problem. They shut down," I said, looking over my shoulder at him. "I don't like this at all."

Barton got up and joined us by the laptop, forgetting all about the newscast. "What are you suggesting?" he asked. "Do we have visitors?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. The sensors could shut down for a number of reasons. An animal could have found and damaged them—or moisture could have gotten inside if the casing was cracked—or an electromagnetic field could render them inoperative."

"Should we start packing?"

"That was the plan anyway," I pointed out. "But, yes. After supper, we need to each pack one bag of essentials, including some of the non-perishable food, and a second bag of things we'd like to bring along. No more than one person can carry while running, if necessary. And then I think we should load them in the SUV so we're prepared to leave at a moment's notice."

"Shit," breathed Barton, looking a bit pale.

"Don't worry," I told him. "We'll protect Duo, no matter what happens. And honestly, the sensor failure might mean nothing at all—the two that malfunctioned were older models—less durable."

I didn't mention that they were also more or less along the same trail that circled one side of the lake. No need to worry him more than necessary. I could worry enough for two people—or ten.

"One way to find out," Wufei pointed out. "We could go retrieve them and see what went wrong."

I gave a hesitant nod. "Perhaps. But it's more important that we get ready to move out. Once we're packed and have the vehicle loaded, I might be willing to go investigate."

"Might be better to just leave them and move on," Barton noted.

"That, too," I agreed. "Cut our losses. You _did _say your friend Catherine will be ready whenever we show up, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." I pushed away from the computer, restless and tense. "I'm going to grab a rifle and do a perimeter sweep," I decided. "Chang, would you square away weapons here? Get our backups all checked out and loaded?"

"Consider it done."

"What can I do?" Barton asked, a determined look in his eyes.

"Get on the deck with binoculars and check out anything that moves out there," I told him, considering any help vital at that point. "If you see something, call out. I'll be close enough to hear."

As Trowa was heading out onto the deck, Chang went to the front hallway to fetch our gun cases.

Of course, at that point Maxwell and Winner caught wind of the increased activity level, and became curious.

"What's up?" Duo asked as he stepped out of the kitchen. He came straight to me and got close enough that I could feel his body heat.

"Nothing to worry about," I told him, looking more at his lips than his eyes. "A couple of my sensors stopped working, and I'm going to walk the perimeter while Barton does some scanning with binoculars and Chang makes sure all our weapons are in order."

Winner frowned, exchanging a look with Chang, who gave a funny little nod. Somehow I had a feeling there was some private conversation I missed out on.

"Winner?"

He turned those guileless blue eyes towards me. "Can I do anything to help? Duo's got supper in the oven—so there's no need for me in the kitchen."

I shook my head. "Just—go keep Barton company. Two sets of eyes, you know?"

He gave a quick smile and headed out, and Duo started to follow him. But I put an arm out to stop him, nodding towards the kitchen. "I think you're safest in there—the windows are small and high, and there's a lot of appliances for cover."

Duo's eyes widened in alarm as he obviously recalled our last precipitous flight from a safe house. So I reached out and caught him firmly by both shoulders. "Stop," I said soothingly. "This isn't like last time. It's just two faulty sensors, and they're all the way across the lake. Even if the malfunction was caused by a human, it would take them hours to hike here, and they'd set off any number of other alarms along the way."

He looked uneasily at Barton and Winner, who were out near the railing of the deck, watching the tree line with binoculars. "God, Yuy—we should have sent them away," he murmured in a sick voice. "They aren't part of this."

"Of course they are," I chided, reminding myself Chang was only a few feet away, and I couldn't pull Duo into my arms to comfort him. "Khushrenada would have targeted them as well—they're every bit as safe here with us as they'd be back in the city."

The indigo eyes met mine, and he mustered a weak smile. "You're right," he admitted with a sigh. "And I do trust you—really. Just—I want to protect—."

"There's safety in numbers," Wufei cut in reassuringly. "As Yuy said, your friends are safest here with us. And they provide two more sets of eyes to watch for danger, and two more sets of hands to help deal with it if it comes."

I gave Duo a slight push towards the kitchen. "Why don't you go on in and make that dessert you were talking about? I'll walk the perimeter and be back by the time it's ready."

"You'll—be careful?" he searched my face with his eyes.

I gave a determined smile. "I'm always careful, Maxwell. I have no intention of dying for you." I hoped he knew the unspoken addition to that. _"I want to live for you."_

His answering smile told me he understood. And then his glance slid over to Wufei and he gave a little smirk.

"Good," he chirped in his usual snide tone, pulling away from me. "Wouldn't want _that _on my conscience." He darted a teasing look towards my partner. "I'd never hear the end of it from Chang."

"Too true, Maxwell!" came Wufei's amused reply. "It would be a tragedy. Yuy's a better man than both of us."

Duo turned his smirk to me. "I think your partner's got a little crush on you," he taunted both of us at once.

"Kitchen, Maxwell!" Wufei snapped with a scowl, though his tone lacked venom. I just could not get over his improved attitude towards all three of our companions. But I wasn't going to complain about it, either.

"Yes, mom," Duo shot back, blowing Wufei a kiss and winking at me before heading back in to work on supper.

I turned towards Chang, who was studiously cleaning and checking weapons, having never once looked up towards Duo or me. "Thanks for helping me settle him down," I said quietly.

"Part of the job, isn't it?" came the smooth reply. "Have to keep the witness happy."

"Safe," I reminded him. "And calm. I appreciate you playing along with him to get his mind off the potential danger."

"I wasn't playing," he shrugged, slipping a full magazine into one of our spare rifles. "You _are _the better man."

I tucked an extra Glock into the back of my pants, and walked over to smack him in the shoulder as I passed. "Sentimental ass," I chided.

"Overzealous prick," he retorted with a grin. But his dark eyes were somber as he watched me walk towards the door. "Be careful, Yuy."

"Always."

I slipped outside and headed around the corner of the house, feeling my every nerve on edge as I headed for the first of my motion sensors.

Perhaps I was being paranoid, and perhaps the threat was real—but in our situation, I could take no chances. I'd have to check each and every motion sensor and mini cam within walking distance before I'd feel remotely at ease going back to the house.

* * *

It took me two hours, by which time I was sweaty, tired, and wishing I'd had the presence of mind to nap in the afternoon after swimming with and making love to Duo all morning. Not that I had time to dwell on how pleasant our day had been; I was far too busy inspecting every trail for signs of human passage, such as a broken branch or the slightest of footprints.

I found nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no sign of human activity anywhere around the lake house.

And that should have reassured me—but it didn't. I resolved that after we ate supper, we'd pack up our belongings and be ready to move out at daybreak. I didn't think I'd get any arguments, either.

The smell of peaches filled the foyer as I entered the house and reactivated the alarm system.

"All clear?" came Chang's curt inquiry, before I could even start drooling over the tantalizing scent.

"All clear," I sighed, laying the rifle aside, and shrugging out of my vest. "But I still want us to leave first thing in the morning."

He nodded, closing up the last weapon case. "We've got four clean, loaded rifles and six additional hand guns—all in good working order." He wiped off his hands on a rag he'd been using to clean weapons. "I checked Barton, Winner and Maxwell out on both types of guns—showed them how to aim, fire, and reload." He gave a slight smile. "Not that they didn't already have a basic understanding. But I wanted to be sure."

"Good." I sniffed the air. "Supper?"

"On the table, I think," he told me. "The others went in to set the table when they spotted you returning from your survey."

I sighed deeply. "I'm starving."

"Then let's join them."

We entered the kitchen to find the threesome busily laying out the meal. The table was already set, and they were just finishing putting the food into serving dishes.

Duo looked up with such an expression of relief washing over his face that I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him senseless—to once again prove I was alive.

But with my partner at my side, all I could do was give a wan smile. "Told you I'd be careful."

"So you did," Duo admitted. "Hope you're hungry."

I nodded, heading for the table, only to have him catch me by the arm, his fingers warm and soothing. "Wash up," he said in a husky enough voice to send a little shiver up my spine.

He looked past me to Chang. "You, too, 'Fei-kins—you were oiling gun parts, pal."

Neither one of us offered an argument, but went straight to the sink like good little boys and scrubbed our hands.

Then we were finally allowed to take our places at the table.

I ended up directly across from Duo at the foot of the table, with Winner beside me. Chang was at the head, and Barton was between him and Maxwell. The seating arrangement was fine by me. I'd get to look at the face I loved so much throughout an entire meal.

"Find anything wrong out there?" Barton asked me bluntly, as we began passing the food around.

"No sign of trouble," I said, trying for a reassuring tone. But I caught a skeptical look from the indigo eyes across from me. And I remembered his insistence that he not be coddled. "But we're still going to ready our belongings—tonight."

No one seemed inclined to pursue the subject, and I felt a little guilty for casting a pall over such a delicious meal—and it _was_ every bit as wonderful as the salmon had been.

"Mm—nice job on the chicken," Barton commented, preempting the compliment I was about to deliver. He held up a forkful. "Where'd you get fresh tarragon?"

"It was on the shopping list," Wufei said a bit too quickly. "I think you and Winner were making out in the frozen foods section when I picked it up."

"I don't recall seeing it on the list," I teased, sensing a hint of defensiveness from my partner.

"I added it," came his curt reply.

"I told him I make a killer tarragon chicken the other day," Duo smirked. "Said if he got the makings, I'd prove it to him."

"And you have," Wufei said graciously.

Barton chuckled. "Careful, Chang. That almost sounded like praise." He gave a sly look from half-lidded green eyes. "They do say the way to a man's heart—."

"Maxwell's not getting anywhere _near _my heart!" Wufei asserted quickly. "Or any of my other bodily parts!"

Damn straight! The only heart I wanted Duo near was mine. And when you came right down to it, he was so near it he was practically inside. God, I had it bad!

"Who says Maxwell wants to?" Duo chided. "I didn't make supper to get in your pants, Wu. I just wanted to impress the shit out of you and let you see what you were missing."

"I'm sure whoever marries you will be a lucky man indeed," came the sarcastic reply.

"You don't know the half of it," Duo gloated, taking a big forkful of his supper and chewing with his eyes half-closed in bliss.

I was so absorbed in watching his expression that I flinched when a foot lightly stroked the inside of my calf. I covered for the involuntary motion by coughing and taking a sip of my drink.

Duo's eyes gleamed with mischief as he pretended to be totally occupied with his meal, and simultaneously ran teasing toes along my leg and up to my thigh.

I looked at him in sudden alarm, realizing that the way we were sitting, he could reach all the way to—_fuck_!

When the ball of his foot settled against my groin, toes curling deliciously in a stroking motion, I nearly choked on the bite of chicken I'd foolishly taken.

Quatre helpfully patted my back as I coughed and sputtered, finally washing down the piece of food with a swig of tea.

"You okay?" Chang asked, frowning in worry.

"F—fine," I gasped out, still feeling that warm foot pressed into my crotch.

"Yes, you are," Duo piped up enthusiastically, winking boldly at me.

I couldn't even glare at him, I was so focused on not squirming in my seat.

"Maxwell, do you _never _tire of flirting with people who aren't interested?" Chang asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, if you two were interested," Duo said coyly, "it wouldn't be just _flirting_. It'd be _fucking_. And, no, I never tire of that!"

"Enough!" I growled out between gritted teeth, surreptitiously pressing my legs together to trap the offending foot. "Can we just finish supper and get busy packing our gear so we're ready to leave in case of trouble?"

"Aye-aye, sir!" Duo chirped, tugging his foot free so smoothly I was pretty sure no one else at the table realized where it had been.

He stood up and went to get the cooling peach cobbler from the counter, while I breathed a sigh of relief and finished my meal.

We all had a hefty portion of dessert, and Duo racked up a few more compliments, which he seemed to brush off with a hint of discomfort. It occurred to me he wasn't used to being praised, a fact I found a bit puzzling. Surely all the applause for his and Barton's dance act must have counted. Yet faced with sincere, one-on-one praise, he seemed uneasy.

When I looked thoughtfully at his face, he gave a wry smile and a shrug, once again seeming to read my thoughts like an open book. "Growing up on the streets, you learn not to stand out," he said quietly. "'S hard to get used to being the center of attention."

"With cooking skills like yours," Chang cut in, apparently not realizing he was interrupting a moment, "you'd better learn to take compliments."

"Or stop cooking?" Duo suggested.

"Perish the thought." Wufei spared me a glance as if to dare me to comment on his change of attitude towards our witness.

But I merely smirked back, giving him a small nod of approval. Hell, the better he tolerated Maxwell, the less he might expound on my colossal stupidity when I ever got up the nerve to confess to being in love with him.

Yeah, that'd be right after I admitted to being gay…not exactly the first order of business on my "to-do" list.

We finished our delicious meal with companionable chatter, and then Chang and I took charge of the cleanup, sending the others upstairs to pack.

When we'd completed our task in record time, we broke down the lightweight non-perishables into five piles on the table, and brought out the spare weapons, spending another half an hour discussing who should get which ones.

* * *

The sun was setting over the lake when I headed upstairs to check on our companions' progress.

"You didn't!" came Barton's disbelieving voice from the room Duo and I shared.

"Yep, I did," Duo replied.

"You played footsie under the dinner table with Yuy? Are you nuts?"

Duo chuckled. "Couldn't resist, Tro'. You know how erotic I think food can be."

"Yeah, ever since Zechs taught you how to cook," came an amused response. "Just because 'cooking' and 'fucking' have the same number of letters, doesn't mean you should do them together."

"Naw—it's the 'eating' part that really turns me on."

"Yeah, I 'm gonna miss eating whipped cream with you…"

"You mean _on _me."

"That too." There was a momentary pause, and then, "But I can tell you're really into your cop—and it looks like maybe he's into you, too. So—I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Tro'. An' you know I think you and Quat are just perfect together."

"I know we are. I never felt like this before—ever. Now I know why you always talked about finding 'the one.' It's worth it…_so _worth it."

"Yeah," came the wistful sigh.

I couldn't help wondering if Duo's "one" had been Merquise—not me.

Well, of course it was; they'd been exclusive—they'd been planning a future. So really, when it came down to it, I was only Duo's second choice…someone to fuck until he went into relocation. It's not like he'd said "I love you" back to me.

God, that hurt.

Not enough to make me want to give him up—but enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

It was just vanity, I told myself. I'd known at the outset that Duo was bound for relocation—we both had. So it was pointless to try to believe we were destined to meet, fall in love, and stay together.

I mean, I know I'd told myself I wanted to find a way to keep from losing Duo. But what if it was just a romance of convenience—of opportunity, for him?

What would I do then? What if I never found anyone else who could make me feel the way he did? Lord knows I hadn't found it _before _Duo. So what were the odds of finding it _after _him?

How, after touching and tasting and making love to him, was I supposed to move on? I wasn't sure I could. In fact, I was pretty damn sure I couldn't.

"Fuck."

"Yuy?"

Oh, shit. I'd said that out loud.

Duo stuck his head out of our room, a smile lighting his face. "We're almost done packing up. I don't suppose we can take a hot tub break?"

"You, Barton and Winner can," I told him. "I want to pack our portable food into the five packs so we each have some in case we get separated. And Chang and I still have to plan our travel route."

He sidled out into the hall, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face, and Barton passed us with a smirk, headed down the hall to his and Quatre's room. "You okay?" Duo asked me. "You look kinda stressed."

"And I'm sure you think you could alleviate that stress, hm?" I said rather bitterly.

He stiffened, a frown creasing his forehead. "Don't back off on me now, 'Ro. I'm trying not to be a tease—trying to let you know you aren't just a joke to me—or a passing fling. But ya gotta meet me partway."

"I'm—sorry," I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead. "This is—difficult for me."

"Yeah, I know," he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "It must suck to be so—conflicted."

"Conflicted?"

"Yeah—you _want _me; but you don't _want_ to want me. You hate what I've been an' what I've done. You want to be honest with your partner, but you have to hide part of who you are." His fingers ran through my bangs, brushing them back off my forehead. "An' I had to go and put you on the spot at dinner—goofing around. I'm sorry."

I caught his hand, looking deep into the indigo eyes. "It's not _that_. What I can't deal with is knowing I'll have to let you go."

He cocked his head to one side questioningly.

"When this is over…when the trial's over…you'll be relocated with a new identity. And I'll—." I shook my head. "I'll just be Detective Yuy of the First Precinct…with a beat-up car, nosey neighbors, and an empty apartment to go back to every night."_ And memories that would haunt me until my dying day._

All at once he was in my arms, holding me fiercely. "You'll never be _just _anything!" he whispered vehemently. "And as for the empty apartment—all ya gotta do is ask, an' it won't be!"

I grabbed him and pushed him to arm's length. "Don't promise something you can't give!" I said harshly. "You _know _you have to go away—or Khushrenada will keep trying. He'll never rest until he puts you in the same place as Merquise. Even if it means targeting you, the orphanage, and Barton, he'll do it as long as he thinks there's a chance he'll succeed."

Duo tilted his head, dark eyes somber. "Then maybe I should just kill him and get on with my life."

"You know that's impossible, too," I said firmly. "You don't want to end up like him. And you definitely don't want to end up in prison."

"Yeah—but I don't want to give you up, either."

"God, don't talk like that!" I looked away, not wanting to see the desire burning in his eyes. "You knew from the start of this how it'd end up. Don't pretend you didn't. But you couldn't leave well enough alone. And now—now—." I ran a hand down his cheek. "Now I love you, and in order to keep you alive, I'll have to let you go. D'you know how much that hurts?"

"Yeah, I do," he sighed, relaxing in my grasp. "But I won't let it keep me from being with you for as long as I can—as long as you'll let me."

I nodded miserably. "Just—let me get back to work for now. That'll help me clear my head—give me time to breathe."

"Okay," he conceded, backing off. "I'll go help the guys get stuff ready. I _want _to help, y'know. I don't want to be dead weight."

"You never have been," I sighed as he headed after Barton.


	36. Desperate Measures

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Did someone mention "action?"

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Six: Desperate Measures

I went back downstairs, busying myself with laying a map out on the coffee table and determining the best route to reach the circus property Trowa had described.

Wufei brought out steaming cups of coffee, and I looked up gratefully as he set one in front of me. "Thanks."

He settled on the chair beside mine, his dark eyes roaming over the map. "Planning our route," he noted. "Did Barton say exactly where the place is?"

I pointed to a tiny town on the coast. "A mile north of the village…there's an old farmhouse and barn…plus some outbuildings, I think he said. It's pretty remote."

"Remote is good. Defensible would be better."

I shrugged slightly. "Won't know until we get there."

The patter of feet alerted us to the arrival of our three housemates, each carrying a backpack and duffel bag, as instructed.

"Barton—could you come show us the best way to get to your circus friend's place?" Chang asked, gesturing to the map.

Barton settled in beside me on the couch, so close our shoulders were brushing, and I glanced up at Duo in time to see a flicker of irritation cross his face.

Was he—jealous?

I was hard-put not to smile at the thought. I know it warmed me from the inside out—that such a desirable, vivacious person could be possessive of me.

He plunked himself down on my other side, using the arm of the couch as his seat. "So, where are we headed anyway?" He leaned an arm companionably on my shoulder, though I knew there was a lot more to it than that. He was practically staking a claim—not that I minded at all.

I ran a finger down the map, from where we were, to the town Barton had told us about.

"Hey," Duo said with a grin. "Can we take a little detour? I got a friend in Greenville." He pointed to a speck just slightly off course from where we were headed.

"No detours," Wufei spoke up sternly. "We've had enough of those."

Duo looked slyly up from under his lashes. "I promise we'll skip the llama farms along the way."

Trowa laughed along with Quatre, as they exchanged knowing looks.

My partner colored slightly. "You told them?"

"I had to," Duo insisted, smiling sweetly. "It was a turning point in my life. I'm thinkin' of taking up llama farming when I'm relocated."

His two friends chuckled mercilessly, and I was grinning in spite of the twinge of pain the word "relocated" caused. "Lighten up, Chang," I suggested, seeing a storm brewing in the dark eyes. "You know how funny it was."

Quatre leaned in to whisper something to Trowa, and then stood and stretched. "I'm going to grab a shower," he told the rest of us. "Unless there's more work to be done?"

"No, we're good," I shrugged. "Since you guys brought down the bags, Chang and I can put the food in them."

He headed for the stairs, and I glanced up at Duo, who was seated close enough so our arms were brushing. "Weren't you and Barton planning some quality time in the hot tub?"

He looked at Trowa, who glanced towards the retreating lawyer. "Actually, I left a couple of things upstairs."

"Right." I didn't even bother using a sarcastic tone.

The minute Barton stood up, Duo slipped around to steal his seat next to me, his attention once again on the map. "C'mon Yuy," he said in a plaintive voice. "Help me talk Chang into letting us stop in Greenville. I haven't seen Howard in years."

"And have you forgotten what happened the last time you trusted an 'old friend'?" Wufei reminded him.

The debate continued for a few minutes, without any real resolution, until Duo lost interest and went to the kitchen for a second helping of dessert, leaving Wufei and me to plan a primary and alternate route for getting to our next safe house.

We completed the task in no time—able to reach a very clear consensus now that we didn't have a third opinion thrown into the mix. And then we set about putting the non-perishables into the backpacks, and lining them up in the hallway, ready to go.

I was headed back to the laptop for a review of our surveillance status, when Duo stepped out of the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, his gaze focused on the other end of the room—more specifically, the staircase.

Winner and Barton were on their way down—or at least—I thought it was Winner and Barton, although it didn't look anything like them.

"You have got to be fucking kidding!" I snarled in realization.

Quatre's short hair was now a dark brownish-black, combed into a rather untidy mop that framed his soft, boyish features. It was just—wrong. Those wide aquamarine eyes just did _not _go with raven hair.

Well, they did—but in a strange, punk-rock way.

That, however, was nothing compared to Trowa, with shortened bangs framing deep green eyes and a long, auburn braid trailing down his back.

"What the fuck—?" Duo blurted, before bursting into delighted laughter. "What's this? Halloween?"

"No, Maxwell," I growled, furious at the pair. "They think they can get away with playing decoy for us when we head for the next safe house."

He sobered at once, frowning thoughtfully. "Quat? Tro'?"

"It's a sound plan," Wufei piped up, irritating the shit out of me. "At the moment we are not under fire. Confusing our trail is a wise tactical move."

I turned an accusing glare on Winner. "So since I turned you down, you decided to convince Chang to support your crazy scheme?"

He shrugged unrepentantly. "As your partner, he should have a say in strategy as well."

"It's too dangerous!" I snapped at Chang, in a repeat of the answer I'd given Quatre and Trowa the day before. "If they're spotted, they could end up being shot at, blown up, or worse!"

"What's worse than being blown up?" Trowa asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"This isn't a joke!" I retorted. "Maxwell doesn't want you dying for him!" I looked at my illicit lover, seeing immediate agreement in the deep eyes.

"He's right, Tro'. I don't," Duo asserted, folding his arms across his chest. "It's bad enough what happened to your car—to Rashid. I won't let you two take that kind of chance." He tempered the seriousness of his words with a slight smirk. "I love you both for wanting to…but _no_."

For once Winner looked beaten—stonewalled. "Duo—."

"No!" He grabbed the lawyer by both hands. "You've done way too much for me already, Quat. I've cost you a house, a car, a motorcycle…I won't add your life to that."

"Maxwell—don't be dramatic," Chang cut in coolly. "As I said, we aren't in any immediate peril. Why not let them ride off first, on the bike, and leave the impression among the locals that you and Yuy took off together?"

"It's not the locals I'm worried about," I pointed out. "It's Khushrenada's people."

"But it's the locals they'd be questioning. And if they said they'd seen you heading one way, while in reality the three of us go the opposite…"

"And what would happen when they caught up?" Duo demanded. "Tro' and Quat would be walking targets."

"Not if we dropped the disguises the minute we hit the next town," Trowa spoke up. "We'd only keep up appearances long enough to be seen leaving."

"It's a bad idea," Duo said flatly.

"There are too many variables," I agreed. "Too many things could go wrong. You could be overtaken too soon—spotted before you had a chance to ditch the clothes and hair." I gestured to the skin-tight leather pants Trowa was wearing, trying not to let my eyes linger too long on the revealing fabric.

"Besides, black just isn't your color," Duo said to his attorney, gesturing to the dark hair.

Quatre nodded in resignation. "I can't argue with _that_," he conceded, running a hand self-consciously through his hair.

"Although—," Duo added teasingly, "—the dark-haired, blue-eyed detective look _is _a hot one."

"I still say the plan's worth a shot," Wufei cut in, still trying to win his argument. "Yuy—I think we should at least discuss the options…"

I waved a hand dismissively, frowning at the sight of a blinking light on my laptop. Intruders? I completely forgot about Chang and Maxwell's ongoing debate as I keyed up the surveillance data.

Yet another of my long-range sensors had failed—this one closer to the lake house by an alarming distance.

Grabbing the binoculars, I headed out onto the deck and began a slow, meticulous sweep of the tree line. By God, if someone was stalking us, I intended to see him before he got close enough to take a shot.

"—can't seriously think the risk would be worth it!" Duo snapped, following Chang out onto the deck behind me.

"It's their choice!"

"Your partner said 'no.' _I _said 'no.'"

"And how will you stop them if they persist in this scheme?"

"I'll shave their fuckin' heads if I have to…hide the car keys…and handcuff 'em to a goddamned tree! I don't care _how _I stop 'em…but I _will_!"

The binoculars had picked up the barest rustle of a leaf, and I focused in on the bushes between the dock and the boat house, almost certain I could see a shape that wasn't quite natural.

"Chang…" I murmured, my attention riveted.

"—two grown men, Maxwell," he was saying. "You can't dictate their every move. And if they want to help, they have every right."

"If they try to go through with this dumbass plan, I'll personally beat the shit out of both of them."

There it was—a glint of light reflecting off a flat surface—like a rifle scope!

"Down!" I yelled, tossing the binoculars aside and grabbing for my gun.

Maxwell moved like lightning as a bullet chipped the deck railing, throwing himself against Chang and tipping them both headfirst into the hot tub.

The report of the rifle followed on the heels of the bullet, and I ducked behind the railing and fired off two quick shots in the sniper's general direction, hoping to give him reason to pause.

Instead, he fired again, one bullet burying itself in the frame of the hot tub, and another sending wood shards flying from the handrail just above me.

"Fuck!" I heard thrashing and cursing from the direction of the tub, and saw a hand flail in an attempt to grab the side.

"Stay _down_!" I yelled, rolling and then sighting through the slats on the railing. I used the vertical bars to help steady my shot, waiting for the shooter to stand up and aim again.

He did, rising from the bushes just enough to zero in on the hot tub, and I slammed out three rapid shots, breathing a "yes!" as I saw him go down.

I didn't waste a second then, but went straight to the tub, where Chang was still grappling with Maxwell, and cursing fluently in Mandarin. "Hurry it up!" I urged. "We need to get inside—fast!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" Chang demanded of our wide-eyed witness, who was scrambling to get out of the steaming water.

"Not joking around, Chang," Duo sputtered, coughing and spitting out water. "Yuy yelled to get down."

Wufei darted a disbelieving look at me, apparently having missed my hasty warning in his zeal to out-argue Maxwell.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Shooter by the dock. I saw him go down, but I have to get out there and see if he's dead, and if he had friends."

My partner was instantly all business again, realizing the sudden plunge into the tub hadn't been Maxwell's idea of a prank, and that our situation was precarious. "More than one?" he asked.

"Unknown." I pulled him to his feet, and he climbed out of the water. But as he did, I realized there was a reddish tinge in the tub. "Are you wounded?"

He shook his head, patting himself down quickly.

Then we both looked at Maxwell, who threw one wet jeans-clad leg over the side. "Not me," he asserted. "Just banged my shoulder on the way in."

I turned him around quickly, sucking in a breath at the spreading red stain across the back of his soggy tee-shirt. "Fuck! Winner! Barton! Get him inside!"

Duo looked over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of his blood. "Shit—I didn't think—."

I half-dragged him to the doorway, where Winner and Barton were already waiting, reaching to haul him inside and away from windows and doors.

Chang pushed past me, tossing his wet gun aside and running to the hallway to grab another. "C'mon, Yuy! Let's get to the sniper while we might still get some answers out of him."

I hesitated, torn between helping Quatre and Trowa, and finding out if the sniper was still alive. "You two—take care of Duo. We'll be right back! And for fuck's sake, stay down and out of sight. Arm yourselves."

"Done," Barton said curtly, heading for weapons, while Quatre ushered Duo into the downstairs hallway—the farthest point from windows or doors. "Go get the bastard, Yuy."

He didn't need to tell me twice; I was out the door and sprinting for the dock with my partner at my heels, wanting nothing more than to strangle the life out of whoever had taken a shot at my lover.

The sniper was on the ground, crawling along using one elbow and the butt of his rifle, while keeping the other hand pressed to a wound in his thigh. He tried to roll onto his back and raise the weapon, but Wufei kicked it aside, leveling a Glock at the man's face point blank.

"Give me an excuse," he said so calmly and conversationally that it sent chills up my spine. Chang could be an intimidating man when he wanted to be.

The shooter raised his hands cautiously, keeping his eyes fixed on the muzzle of the gun. "I give up!"

"If only that were enough," Chang sighed, reaching down and hauling the man to his feet. "Got cuffs on you, Yuy?"

"Of course." I yanked the man's trembling hands behind his back, not bothering to be gentle. "You don't have the right to remain silent," I told him coldly. "You have the right to tell us who the hell sent you and how many more of you are out there."

"Fuck you!"

"Not on your best day," I growled, shoving him face-first onto the ground and dropping to place one knee firmly in the small of his back. "I want to know who sent you," I told him, grabbing the back of his hair in my fist and lifting his head only to slam it forcefully into the dirt. "And if you don't tell me, I'll pound your face into pulp on this nice, hard ground."

"You can't! You're cops!" he blurted, spitting out grass and sand.

"Says who?" I countered, hoping to get him to spill exactly how much he knew about us, and where he might have acquired such knowledge. It was for damn sure Khushrenada wasn't supposed to know who was protecting Duo. If he were to play the odds, he should have guessed it was Feds rather than cops. And if he did know it was cops, I wanted to know who told him.

"Figure it out yourselves," he sneered back.

"Wrong answer!" I slammed his face down again, harder.

"Yuy—."

I glared up at my partner. "No, Chang! I'm not holding back with this asshole! He fuckin' shot Duo! And we need to know everything!"

"I got him?" asked the guy, brightening perceptibly.

"Winged him," I snarled back, lifting my weight from his back and pulling him up to his knees so I could more easily backhand him across the face. "He'll live. But you might not! Now speak up!"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter what I tell you. You won't get away from here. They're already on their way—."

"Who is?"

The flat crack of a shot made both Chang and me dive aside, rolling and coming up armed and facing the source. But a single glance back at our prisoner told me he wouldn't be doing any more talking.

"Fuck! There's more!"

"We've got to get back to the house, round up Maxwell and get the hell out of here!" Chang said urgently.

"No shit." We both flattened to the ground again as more shots rang out.

"You go first, Yuy. I'll cover you."

My partner laid down a few suppressive shots as I darted up towards the house, and upon reaching the relative shelter of the deck, I did the same for him.

When we burst back into the living room, it was to find ourselves on the business end of a rifle, with Trowa Barton gazing down the barrel.

"Shit!" he blurted, raising the muzzle away from us. "Did you get him?"

"We did—but someone else took him out before we could beat any information out of him," I said quickly. "How's Duo?"

"I'm fine!" came a rather frustrated voice from the hallway. Duo stuck his head around the corner. "Can I come out?"

"Yes. And get into some dry clothes. We're leaving." I ran for the foyer, arming myself with a rifle and tossing one to Wufei. "We'll need to pick off the other shooter before we make a break for it."

Chang and I both had a vague idea of where the shot had originated that took out our potential source of information. And yeah, I wasn't dignifying the bastard with the title of "prisoner" or even "human being." He'd nearly killed Duo, and for that, I'd have happily killed him myself if the other sniper hadn't done it for me.

But we still needed to eliminate the threat before we made our run for it. And so Wufei went along one side of the yard, while I went along the other.

A smart sniper would have fled by that time, seeing as we were onto him. But this one was apparently as determined as the men at the first safe house had been, and sure enough, as I neared the boat house, and the dead body, I caught a glimpse of motion on the opposite side of the yard.

"Chang! Four o'clock!"

He spun in the direction I'd indicated and snapped off a shot at a guy who'd been moving towards the deck, probably angling for another attempt at Duo.

The sniper dodged, and turned to fire back; but with two targets to choose between, he was at a distinct disadvantage. My shot took him squarely in the forehead as he aimed at Wufei.

"Jesus, Yuy! Would you leave one alive next time so we can question him?" Chang groused, his dark gaze scanning the tree line rather than looking my way as he spoke.

"I left the first one alive," I pointed out, looking for others in the thickening twilight.

"A two-man team, you think?" asked my partner, walking closer to me—but not so close that we'd make an easy target.

"I hope. But that first guy mentioned reinforcements, remember? He said 'they're already on their way.'"

"Who are 'they'?"

"I don't really care," I said firmly. "I just want to be gone when they get here."

We went back inside to find our three companions ready to go—packs and guns in hand.

"Yuy—your laptop is going nuts," Duo told me, gesturing towards my monitoring system. "Can I take it we've got more company on the way?"

I ran to the desk, keying up the surveillance. "Holy fucking shit! There are half a dozen SUVs on their way up the logging road."

"Guess we won't be leaving _that _way," replied my witness, looking just a bit wild around the eyes.

"Winner?"

The blue-eyed attorney fixed me with a steady gaze. I vaguely wondered if courtroom cross-examinations had taught him to be so cool under fire; either way, he was singularly clear-headed considering our situation. "You're going to have to let Trowa and me do what we planned," he told me, helping as I began unplugging the laptop and stuffing it into a carrying case. "We'll take the motorcycle and try to lead them off."

"And what are we supposed to do—try to get past them in the SUV?" I demanded. "They won't overlook us that easily."

"No—you three will take the boat."

I paused to gape at him for a moment.

"Seriously. Take the speedboat and get across the lake to the ATVs. Take them through the woods as far as you can."

"What's their range?" Chang asked, helping us finish packing, and then hefting my case of surveillance devices, turning towards the deck.

"Maybe eighty miles, depending on how full the tanks are and the terrain and speed."

"Enough to put some distance between us and _them_," my partner noted.

I eyed him skeptically. "And then what?"

"Then we find alternate transportation to the circus property."

"It's a sketchy plan at best."

"It's all we've got."

I gave a curt nod and grabbed my share of the gear.

Duo, meanwhile, took the opportunity to pull Quatre aside for a moment, and I managed to overhear just a bit of their brief farewell.

"—if you'll look after Trowa?"

"Of course I will."

"Not just now—but later—if I make it to the trial and they send me off into relocation," Duo said in an undertone. "I just—it'd help to know he'll have someone—that he won't just be on his own again. I know he's an independent cuss, but God, a guy like him deserves someone to love, y'know?"

"He's got someone…someone who loves him like crazy," Quatre said warmly.

Duo yanked the lawyer into his arms, hugging him tightly for a second. "You're the best, Quat."

"You too."

Duo then ran to the garage door, where Trowa was donning his motorcycle helmet in preparation for the upcoming ride, and hugged his former lover. He glanced at me as if asking permission, and I nodded, not minding at all when he placed a warm, lingering kiss on the dancer's lips.

Not that Duo needed my permission, but it felt great that he considered my feelings in that moment.

Then we all bid a hasty goodbye and went into motion; Barton and Winner towards the garage, and Chang, Maxwell and I towards the deck. Even as we raced down the hill to the boat house, I heard the faint sound of engines approaching on the logging road.

Chang was ahead of me, tossing gear into the boat and untying the rope, while I stayed close enough to Duo to shelter him with my body if necessary.

"Get it running, Chang!"

"I'm on it!"

Duo hopped nimbly into the boat and stuffed our belongings under the seats, making room for all three of us, as I raised my rifle and sighted on the place the approaching vehicles would break into the open.

Even as they did, I heard the boat motor start up behind me, and saw the motorcycle carrying Winner and Barton burst from the garage and head up the nearest game trail. And damned if that fake braid wasn't waving like a banner behind Barton as they fled.

The driver of the first SUV saw it too, and veered that way—until my well-planned shot shattered the windshield and probably his face as well.

I didn't stick around to view the results, as a second and third SUV came barreling up behind the first, but jumped into the boat and hollered for Chang to get it moving.

Then we were speeding away from the dock, and out of range of whatever weapons our pursuers might be carrying. I looked back to see a couple of the vehicles sliding to a halt halfway down the hill, with men piling out and running towards the house and dock. Apparently they were still hoping someone might be left behind.

I was happy to disappoint them.

Duo was clinging to the side of the boat, looking a little pale in the gathering twilight, and I leaned in close. "Are you all right—really?" I had to raise my voice almost to a shout to be heard.

"Yeah, Quat checked out the wound," he yelled back over the noisy motor. "Just grazed me—maybe nicked the shoulder blade." He grinned dauntlessly. "Hurts like Hell!"

"Love you!" I shouted back, reasonably sure Chang couldn't hear a thing, since he was the one operating the motor, and he had it wide open—propelling us across the water at an almost alarming rate.

"You, too!" Duo called back. "You're really hot when you're dodgin' bullets, y'know!"

Fuck—did _nothing _faze him? He really _was _at his best under pressure.

The ping and spark of a bullet glancing off the side of the boat made us both dive for cover, and Chang cursed loudly enough to be heard over the racing motor. "Company!" he called to me. "And their boat looks faster!"

"Stay down!" I said, right in Duo's ear, dropping a quick kiss on it in the process.

Then I crawled to the back of the boat, staying low. "Let me drive!" I told Chang. "You lay down cover fire."

He spared me a disbelieving look, and then relinquished the helm, crawling to where he'd put his rifle, and easing up to sight on our pursuers.

They were, indeed, in a faster boat, and I wondered where the hell they'd come from, how they got lucky enough to intercept us, and how far their rifles could shoot…not necessarily in that order.

"Chang?"

"Aiming."

"Just shoot—you won't hit anything from a bouncing boat anyway!"

"I don't want to waste bullets."

He fired off a careful shot, and the men in the pursuing boat dropped to the floor in panic. He'd just about parted their hair with that one.

Of course, they returned his fire promptly, and it was our turn to take cover. And as bullets tore at the fiberglass of our ride, I knew we couldn't hold out for long.

I looked ahead, hoping to see the cove with the ATV garage nearing—but there was a long way to go. And it was unlikely we'd be able to outrun or outshoot our enemies.

I ran through my previous voyage on the lake, hoping to think of a shortcut or maybe a hidden cove we might use to evade them—but it was a pretty wide open lake—with little to offer in the way of cover.

And then a flash of inspiration struck me, and I veered the boat to the left, heading for shallower water.

"Careful!" Wufei yelped, having nearly dropped his rifle during my sudden change of course.

Duo had crawled up beside my partner, and was handling the reloading of weapons while Chang kept firing just often enough to hold off our pursuers.

"Stop shooting," I told Chang, easing back on the throttle a bit.

Duo looked at me in alarm. "Why're we slowing down?"

"Don't worry."

"Yuy?" My partner sounded easily as worried as Duo.

"We're not doing something crazy like surrendering, are we?" asked my lover, darting a glance at the boat that was now steadily closing in on us.

"Never!" I promised.

"Then what the fuck _are _we doing?" demanded Wufei.

"Letting them catch up."

"Why?" they both demanded in a plaintive wail.

"Trust me!"

I looked ahead, and then back at the approaching boat, gauging the distance carefully. And at the very last possible instant—almost too late—I veered around the barely-submerged rock and gunned the engine back up to full throttle.

The boat behind us accelerated as well, and I grabbed Wufei, shoving him back to the helm while I took his rifle and scooted to the back.

When the sleek speedboat hit the rock, it was carrying enough speed to be thrown skyward, until I could see the entire underside. Ripped and gouged as it was, when it splashed down it was sure to sink—but that wasn't quite good enough for me. I took careful aim at the motor and fired three shots in a row.

I don't know which one hit the fuel tank—but the fireball that erupted from the back of that boat illuminated the entire lake for one brief instant.

And then we were back in the gathering dusk, speeding across the smooth lake surface alone.

"Holy fucking shit!" Duo blurted, looking at me with shining eyes. "That was awesome!"

God, I loved that man.


	37. Trust

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Seven: Trust

As soon as I was certain our pursuers were finished and there were no more to take their place, I blew out a deep, relieved breath and had Wufei head the boat towards the cove where the garage with the ATVs was located.

It was almost pitch dark by that time. Why did the bad guys never show up in daylight, when it would be easy to travel?

As we neared the side of the lake where the ATVs were kept, I had Wufei gun the engine to build up speed and then kill it, to let the boat glide silently in to shore. There was no telling if there might be foot patrols this far from the lake house—but from now on, I'd leave nothing to chance.

I was impressed by Maxwell's innate ability to be silent when it was necessary. He didn't say a word as we let the boat drift in. And once we'd hopped off and unloaded it, I shoved it back out onto the water, hoping the soft breezes and waves would carry it far enough to obscure our trail.

We carried our gear to the garage and let ourselves in, using a tiny pen light to check gas gauges and oil in the vehicles.

"We should be able to cover roughly eighty miles on a tank," I whispered, keeping my voice low in case anyone might be prowling the area. "That will get us to a town or city where we can rent a car."

"Paper trail," Wufei sighed, dusting off the seat of his chosen ATV.

"Unavoidable."

"No, it's not," Duo spoke up, so close beside me I felt the brush of his bangs against my face. "If we head for Howard's place, he'd loan us a car—no questions asked."

"He _knows _you," I replied, keeping my voice down in spite of wanting to raise it to get my point across. "That's worse than a paper trail."

"He's an old, old friend," Duo insisted. "I knew him years ago—back when I was with the Reapers. He hid me from cops plenty of times—bought me a meal when I was half-starved. He's _proven _himself."

"Not to me!"

The deep indigo eyes fixed me with a pleading look. "Won't you at least trust my judgment about him? I know I fucked up calling Hilde—but that was different. She an' I were never tight the way Howard an' I are. Brothers. We're like brothers. An' I swear, he won't fuck me over."

"You thought that about Hilde."

"I didn't _think _at all!" Duo argued. "I was hurting and lonely and stupid. Okay? This time I'm not. Please, 'Ro—give me another chance."

"I think," Wufei said slowly, as if weighing each word, "that this time we can trust Duo's judgment. He knows how serious our enemies are, and how rich. And if he believes this friend of his to be worthy of our trust, I'm willing to go along with him."

"You want us to put our lives in a complete stranger's hands?" I asked incredulously.

"He's not a stranger," Duo declared firmly. "Not to me."

I nearly groaned aloud. If I pulled rank on Chang and made a unilateral decision, I'd basically be placing less trust in Maxwell than Chang did. And that would hurt the man I loved—the man I wanted to protect, even from himself if necessary.

For Christ's sake—I trusted Duo with my heart—and he trusted me with his life. How could I insult his intelligence, question his judgment, and still expect him to love me back?

The answer was simple; I couldn't. Either I'd put my faith in him and my life in his hands, or I'd lose his affection; of that much I was certain. How could he love a man who didn't trust him?

While I was frozen there, debating, I felt Duo sigh deeply and pull away. "F'get it, Chang," he said in a flat tone. "He's not gonna get over my screw up with Hilde. Let's just blow this pop stand an' put some miles between us an' Treize's shooters, hm?"

I caught his wrist as he started to turn. "Fine!" I bit out more sharply than I intended. "We'll go to Greenville. But if you're wrong, it's all our lives."

He glanced over a shoulder, eyes half-lidded. "Y'think I'd take that chance? With _your _life? Or Chang's?"

I felt like an idiot, remembering how much he worried for those close to him. "Of course not—it's just—my job. To worry, that is."

"And you're real good at it," he replied with a hint of humor that I hoped meant I was forgiven for my hesitation.

"Time to go," Wufei cut in curtly.

We opened the garage as quietly as possible, grateful for doors that swung outward, rather than rolling sideways on a noisy track. There was still no sign of pursuit, but we paused and listened for a moment—reassured by the steady chirp of crickets and the occasional tree frog.

"All this quiet won't do us much good once we turn these things on," Duo pointed out, pushing his ATV outside and tying on the duffel bag and backpack with rope we'd found in the shed.

"That's why we'll have to rely on speed at first," I sighed. "Hopefully the headlamps are bright enough to light the trail so we can make some time." I gestured to Wufei. "You take point—Duo can follow—and I'll bring up the rear."

Duo chuckled under his breath, and it must have just about killed him not to make the obvious comment about that last phrase.

"Oh just fucking _say _it!" Wufei growled, pushing his machine out in front.

Duo turned to me with a brilliant smile. "You can bring up _my _rear any time, Yuy!"

I gaped, sputtered, and tried not to remember how incredible his rear felt—especially when I was buried in it. This was _not _the time for daydreaming or distractions.

"Chang—_why_?" I demanded.

"Because he'd have damned well exploded if I didn't give him permission to let that out," came the sharp reply. And was that a chuckle I heard just before Chang revved up the ATV and headed up the dirt trail?

"He's right," Duo smirked, swinging a leg over the seat and firing up his own ride.

And I followed suit, not liking the way the noisy engines blared in the stillness of the night. That noise could lead searchers right to us if we didn't move fast.

Chang set a grueling pace, leading the way up a steep, wooded trail leading in the general direction we wanted to go. While the headlights provided illumination for basic travel, they didn't shine far enough ahead to let us make the kind of rapid progress I'd have liked. But that first hour, I'd have estimated we covered fifteen rugged miles.

And then I caught a flicker of light up above the tree line and realized at once it couldn't possibly be a star or high-flying aircraft.

Since conversation was out of the question, I pulled around Duo, signaling a stop, and caught up to Chang, also gesturing to him.

He pulled over unquestioningly.

"Kill the lights and motors!"

All three of us shut down our machines, and in the silence that followed heard the choppy sound of helicopter rotors. And they were getting closer.

"Into the trees!" I urged, pushing my vehicle off the trail and under the spreading canopy of a tall pine tree. Chang and Maxwell followed suit, and the three of us crouched breathlessly in the shadows.

The helicopter got closer and closer, flying so low it almost skimmed the treetops—and I caught sight of a search light making wide sweeps through the trees.

"Fuck! Grab some branches," I hissed at my companions.

The three of us hastily gathered whatever fallen limbs we could find, tossing them over our ATVs for camouflage. Then we crawled under them ourselves, hunkering down as the first chopper was joined by a second and both cruised slowly over the valley we were hiding in.

Duo had ducked in next to me, and I could feel a faint tremor as he pressed closer while the searchers closed in.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

He nodded unconvincingly, and I put a hand to the back of his shoulder blade, feeling fresh blood seeping through his shirt and whatever bandage Winner had hastily applied.

He flinched away from my touch, hissing under his breath. "'S okay, Yuy!" he insisted. "Bloody and sore—but it ain't gonna kill me."

God, I wanted to get him somewhere safe! Somewhere I could find a bed for him, and tend to that fucking wound before it became infected. But at the moment, with helicopters hovering overhead, dragging the wilderness with search lights, that wasn't an option.

"You tell me if it gets worse—understand? Any lightheadedness, nausea, faintness—you _tell _me!"

"Yes, mom," came the sarcastic drawl.

"Yuy!" Chang hissed from my other side. "Is that an FBI chopper?"

"Looks and sounds right—but it's too dark to make out any markings."

"Shit!"

I had my own theory about this attack—it was too soon after Chang's call to the precinct to be a coincidence. Someone had seen the number and traced the call—either someone in the department, or someone from the Feds. This was no independent hit—it was practically a full-scale military operation.

If Duo was correct, and Khushrenada had men inside the Bureau, they could easily mount such an operation under the pretense that they were invading a crack house or going after dangerous fugitives. And whoever they might be, they weren't above killing one of their own to ensure his silence. Clearly, we weren't safe from anyone at this point.

Duo moved restlessly, leaning more heavily against me, and I heard a deep sigh. "It's been fun, Yuy, but maybe you should consider handing me over. If you an' Chang are just gonna end up dead—."

"Shut up, Maxwell!" snapped my partner. "We are not 'handing you over' to _anyone_—not now—not ever!"

"Look, Wuffers—."

"It's not negotiable," he said firmly. "We're all in this together now—and so we'll remain."

"Three fuckin' Musketeers," muttered Duo with a hint of weary amusement in his voice.

The helicopters were circling—coming around for another pass, and we settled deeper under cover.

"You'd be Porthos." Duo continued rambling on, sounding as if maybe the pain was making him a bit spacey. "Pompous, but lovable—and honorable." He flashed a cheeky grin at my partner. "I think I'd be Aramis—the slut of the bunch. An' that'd make Heero Athos."

"Why not D'Artagnon?" I asked, half my attention focused on the helicopters and half on my lover.

"D'Artagnon was a young, idealistic country boy," Duo replied. "An' none of us are like that." He shifted position, hissing in pain. "Hell, Yuy—you and Chang are about as cynical as they come, and me? I was _born _jaded."

Well, you couldn't argue with logic like that.

"One for all," Wufei whispered, shaking his head. "When the hell did you read 'The Three Musketeers,' Maxwell?"

"At the orphanage. When I was a kid, they read it to us—an' then when I went to help out, I started reading it to the new kids." He sighed wearily. "Never figured I wouldn't get to finish."

"Maybe you will," I suggested carefully. "Maybe when this is all over—."

"Y'mean when I'm hiding out under an assumed name for the rest of my life?" Duo asked bitterly. "Somehow, I don't think I'll get to go back to finish the last chapter of a classic with the kids."

"I'll do it for you," Wufei spoke up suddenly, his tone firm. "I promise, Maxwell. I'll tell the children why you couldn't return to finish it, and I'll do it myself."

There was a long, disbelieving pause, and then Duo laughed quietly. "Okay, Chang—but only if you promise to put some inflection in your voice and make it exciting."

"I'll make it so exciting they'll want fencing lessons when I'm done," my partner assured him.

Duo sighed deeply. "You're okay, Chang."

"So are you."

The noise of the returning helicopters drowned out any attempt at conversation after that, and we crouched motionlessly under our makeshift cover as those sweeping lights pierced the darkness. I couldn't believe they didn't see us—the huge spotlights were so bright. It seemed inconceivable they didn't pick up the red gleam of paint on the ATVs, or the glimmer of chestnut hair pressed up against my shoulder.

But the choppers moved slowly off, their noise gradually receding into the distance.

Chang stood up first, walking to the edge of the trail and listening intently with a hand cupped at his ear.

"Anything?"

"No. I think," he hazarded, "they aren't sure which direction we went, and are unable to search this wilderness effectively."

"We can only hope," I sighed, standing and stretching. "C'mon. Let's try to get out of their search pattern before they come back."

We rode for another hour before sighting the choppers again, and this time when we found shelter, we hunkered down and stayed put, deciding our best bet was to lay low until dawn, when we could travel faster and without lights.

Chang and I made a sort of bed for Maxwell out of our duffel bags and jackets, even though he grumbled about being babied. But I noticed that didn't keep him from falling promptly into a restless slumber, almost the minute he stretched out and put his head down.

I took first watch, too wound up to even consider sleep. Armed with a rifle and flashlight, which I kept turned off, preferring to keep my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I walked up to a point of high ground to look for returning helicopters or the lights and movement that might indicate ground pursuit.

Fortunately, our sprint across the lake seemed to have thrown them off. That, and the fact that Barton and Winner had set off on their decoy mission, was apparently enough to give us a healthy head start.

* * *

At some point in the middle of the night, I traded places with Chang, settling in next to Maxwell and resting my gun across my knees, while my partner went on sentry duty.

Naturally Duo didn't sleep well; he tossed and turned most of the night, muttering in his sleep and letting out small, distressed sounds from time to time. I found that whispering soothing reassurances and gently smoothing the messy bangs seemed to calm and quiet him, at least for a while. But I was still relieved to see the paling of the morning sky, and my returning partner.

"Time to wake him," Chang whispered, looking down at Maxwell with a protective gleam in his dark eyes. "How'd he sleep?"

"Not very well."

He nodded sadly. "Guess he has even more fodder for nightmares these days."

I touched Duo lightly on the shoulder. "Time to get up, Maxwell. We've got some ground to cover today."

Our witness groaned, rolling to face me, and blinking sleepily awake. "Aw, fuck," he mumbled. "Are we back to dodging bears again, Yuy?"

"Something like that," I admitted. "But I doubt they can keep up with an ATV."

"Sure hope not," he groaned, stretching and wincing. "Ah—fuckin' shoulder!" He twisted to look over his shoulder to the dried blood that was making his shirt adhere to his back. "Goddamn."

"We'll find a place to take care of that," I said firmly. "Once we get out of this wilderness and back to civilization, we can stop at a pharmacy or convenience store for bandages and ointment."

He nodded, tugging restlessly at his shirt, until Chang slapped his hand away. "Leave it, Maxwell. For now it's not bleeding—if you pull the fabric away, it might take the bandage along with it and start it again."

"'S itchy."

"Deal with it," my partner told him, with a tone that while scolding, lacked any malice.

We got under way shortly thereafter, forging our own trail with the ATVs, since the part of the woods we were in appeared untouched by human feet. Thus, when we suddenly broke out of the thick underbrush to find ourselves at the edge of a narrow mountain road, we all came to a screeching halt.

I pulled alongside Chang. "Shall we go on, or ditch the ATVs and walk from here?"

He took out the map and we studied it for a few minutes, until we had a good idea where we were.

"If we parallel this road," my partner pointed out. "It will take us most of the way to Greenville." He darted a look at Maxwell, raising an eyebrow. "How sure are you that this Howard fellow will have a car he's willing to loan us?"

"Positive."

We exchanged a look, and I nodded to Chang. "Let's do it then." I hoped I wouldn't live to regret the decision. I was none too pleased at the idea of trusting another of Duo's so-called "friends." But I didn't feel like I had much of a choice. And frankly, we needed a car sooner rather than later.

It was mid-morning when we stashed the ATVs in a culvert beside the road, covering them with plenty of branches and camouflage until I could notify Winner where to pick them up. And yeah, I was being a raving optimist—assuming we'd be able to contact Winner, and assuming no one would discover the vehicles in the meantime. I wasn't concerned about theft as much as the potential for our pursuers to find our discarded transportation and know which way we were headed.

That's why I resolved that we'd leave Greenville in the opposite direction from the one we intended to go. We could find that pharmacy I'd talked about, stop at a hotel, treat Maxwell's injury, and get a night of rest before making the two-day drive up the coast to the circus property.

Then, even if they knew where we'd come out of the woods, our enemies would get a false start in the wrong direction.

"Suppose we'll pass for campers to anyone driving by?" Chang asked me as we started out with backpacks on and duffel bags in hand.

"Don't see why not," I shrugged. "From what I gleaned from maps and research, this part of the state is covered with state forests and campgrounds."

Duo looked around at the thick underbrush. "And bears," he reminded us, looking less than thrilled to be on foot again.

"I'll protect you from the bears," I promised, trying not to let my weariness show through.

He mustered a grin that lacked its usual luster. "'Fei can always act as bait and lead 'em off," he suggested. "Got any granola bars, Wuffers?"

"As a matter of fact," Chang replied without missing a beat. "I think I put them all in _your _backpack."

Duo hiked his pack up a bit, adjusting the way it lay across his back, and trying not to wince as it hit the sore shoulder. "You would," he groused teasingly.

"Want me to carry your pack?" I offered, half-reaching to take the burden from him.

Indigo eyes flashed a defiant look my way. "I can handle it, Yuy. It's not so heavy."

"You're hurt."

"Just a scratch. Can we get this show on the road?"

"Sure we can, just as soon as you tuck that braid under your shirt again," I reminded him.

He obeyed without hesitation, muttering something under his breath about having gotten out of the habit since we'd been at the lake house.

* * *

We hiked until noontime, pausing once every hour or two for a drink of bottled water and a snack to keep our energy levels up.

In that whole time only one or two cars passed us, for which I was eternally grateful. But the third passerby, in a beat-up pickup truck, slowed and stopped.

"Fuck," I muttered, keeping my dogged pace.

The driver stuck his head out the window. "You three headed to Greenville?"

It was Chang who came to the rescue, while I fought down rising tension at the fact that we'd attracted attention.

"As a matter of fact, we are."

"Ya wanna throw your stuff in the back and climb in, it'll save you a couple hours of walking."

We stopped beside the vehicle, and I took a minute to study the weathered face of the old farmer behind the wheel. He looked innocuous enough, with a battered straw hat shading grey eyes, complete with crow's feet at the corners.

A big red hound dog was sprawled across the passenger seat, apparently too lazy to sit up and bark at us. And in the back of the truck were several bags of what I guessed were animal feed, plus a couple of shovels, a roll of baling twine, and a bucket full of rags and assorted tools.

"Sure we'll fit?" Duo teased, giving one of those guileless smiles that just disarmed the hell out of anyone he met.

The old man smiled. "If ya don't mind sliding a couple of bags of corn around back there, y'all ought to fit fine. It ain't fancy—but it beats the hell out of wastin' shoe leather."

Chang gave me an almost imperceptible nod. "It would speed us on our way," he said with a shrug.

Either way, the man would remember three hikers he'd offered a ride to—so I tossed my duffel bag and the case with surveillance equipment into the truck bed and climbed over the tailgate.

"Thanks!" Duo said brightly to the man, passing his stuff up to me, and then joining Chang and me in the back of the truck.

The last ten miles sped by pleasantly, with the three of us bunched together amid the farm implements, our sweat drying in the cool breeze, and our feet comfortably propped up on feed sacks.

When we pulled in at the Greenville General Store, I looked around in frank relief. The town was a speck on the map—far beneath the notice of Khushrenada or the FBI. And I thought the odds of them even stopping there to inquire after us were very small indeed.

The farmer got out of his truck, accompanied by the red hound, and he came around to lower the tailgate for us. "Didn't jostle you around too much, did I?"

"Not at all," Wufei assured him, hopping down and grabbing the first duffel bag.

As I climbed down beside him, I realized the old man's gaze was resting on the worn shoulder holster barely visible under the windbreaker my partner was wearing.

_Shit!_

Those faded grey eyes swept over the three of us once more, and I met them squarely. "Thank you very much for the ride, sir. Can we give you some gas money as thanks?"

He paused, flicking a glance to Duo, who'd climbed out and was crouched down scratching the dog's ears. "No need, young feller. I was headed here anyway."

Duo straightened and smiled warmly, though I winced at the sight of dried blood along the edge of his collar. "It was nice of you to stop for us," he told the man, holding out a hand that was frankly quite filthy. With all the running, hiding, gathering of tree branches, and hard travel, all of us were the worse for wear.

The farmer took Duo's hand without batting an eye, and gave it a firm shake. "You're very welcome."

"Hey, um—is there a mechanic in town named Howard?" Maxwell inquired.

I darted him a disbelieving look. Did he not know better than to tell someone who we were looking for?

The old man smiled widely. "You mean Howard Sweeper?"

Duo nodded eagerly. "I know he moved out here—but I'm not sure where."

"Just go straight down Main Street and you'll see Howard's Garage. Can't miss it." He ran yet another too-discerning gaze over the three of us. "Howard's a helluva mechanic."

"Yeah, he always was," Duo agreed. "Thanks again for the ride."

"You tell Howard that Milt said 'hey.'"

"We'll do that."

We gathered up our things and headed down the road, though I cast an anxious glance back, relieved to see the old man taking stuff out of his truck and heading inside the store, apparently having forgotten all about us.

"Goddamnit, Duo!" I hissed in his ear. "Why didn't you tell us you'd have to ask where to find your pal Howard?"

He looked blankly at me. "Well how the hell was I supposed to know where to find his shop? It's not like we wrote letters back and forth. I just knew he moved out here—to a little place called Greenville—and that's it."

"And what if he'd moved on?" Chang asked, shaking his head.

"Naw—Howard saved for years so he could buy himself a place and set up shop," Duo said firmly. "I knew once he found a home, it'd be permanent."

I didn't even bother scolding him for leading us on what might have been a wild goose chase. Frankly, even if Howard were no longer in town, we'd have had to come this way. Of course, procuring a car might have proven to be a lot harder—but then, I wasn't convinced it was going to be easy anyway. What if Howard didn't consider Duo and him as "tight" as Duo did?

A nice woman at the garage told us Howard had taken off early. But after a little flirting from Maxwell, she wrote down the address of a nearby trailer park, described Howard's trailer, and all but offered to take our protected witness out back for a "quickie."

How the fuck did he _do _that?

I knew Chang would be sour-faced the rest of the day after Duo turned on the charm and melted the heart of the middle-aged receptionist. But frankly, we needed the information, and as long as my lover didn't take the woman up on her near-offer, I didn't much care how he got it.

"You're incorrigible, Maxwell," sighed my partner as we walked away from the shop.

"I'm encourageable, too," Duo smirked back. "Wanna encourage me?"

Wufei just rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "Not even if you were female."

"Oh, ouch."

I would have loved to slip an arm around Duo's waist and assure him I liked him just the way he was—all male. But, well, that would have been beyond stupid.

And speaking of stupid, I hoped our rendezvous with Duo's old friend wasn't a very bad idea. As we approached the address the woman had provided, my serious misgivings returned with a vengeance.

The trailer park was a run-down place, many of the homes looking abandoned or at least in serious disrepair. It did nothing to assuage my fears.

What if Khushrenada had gotten to this Howard fellow, like he did Hilde? Clearly the man needed money if he was living in a place like this. How were we to know he wouldn't sell out a friend to get it?

"Trust me, Heero," Duo whispered, as if reading my thoughts yet again. "Howard's not money-hungry. He lives here by choice—not necessity."

"Why would anyone live here by choice?" Wufei asked in complete bafflement.

"It's peaceful—quiet. And door-to-door salesmen stay the hell away," Duo replied with a bit of humor. "Plus—Howard made a few enemies back in the city—people he'd like to never see again. He was too damned honest for his own good."

"Honest or not," I said firmly. "If we ask him for help, I have a couple of conditions. First, you promise we stay only long enough to borrow the car. And second, we don't say which way we're headed or where we're going."

"But I haven't seen Howie since—."

"Duo, no!" I said sternly. "You are not here to catch up on old times. We need transportation, and we need to keep moving. You can chit-chat some other time."

He sighed in frustration, and then nodded. "Have it your way," he muttered rather sullenly. "Y'mind if I ask to use the john at least?"

"That's all," I said firmly.

"Yes, sir," came the seriously sarcastic reply.

We left our backpacks and duffel bags outside the little picket fence surrounding a trailer that looked to be in better shape than most, and entered through the gate. I pulled my gun, letting it hang unobtrusively behind one hip, and noticing my partner did the same, as Maxwell climbed the steps and knocked on the door.

"Hey—Howie! Open up!" he said loudly. I tried to "shush" him with a gesture, but he shook his head. "Gotta holler to him, man—so he knows it ain't a bill collector." He grinned and turned back to pound on the door yet again. "Howie-baby! C'mon! It's _me_! You said I was the 'prettiest piece of ass' to ever take it all off on a stage!"

The door was yanked sharply open, and a whiskered man wearing a wild Hawaiin print shirt and dark sunglasses stood framed in the doorway. "Shush, Maxwell! People will _hear _you!"

"And—?" Duo asked with a smirk.

"They'll get the wrong idea!"

"'Course they will," Duo shrugged with a wide, unapologetic grin. "That's why you better let me in real quick."

The old man pulled the sunglasses down his nose and peered over them. "Shit—it really _is _you, kid." Then he gave a sort of horrified gasp. "You cut off the braid?"

"Aw, hell no!" Duo assured him, pulling the chestnut rope out from under his shirt. "You know me better than that, Howie."

The whiskered man nodded, sighing in apparent relief, and then his gaze slid past Maxwell to fix on Chang and me. "Who're your 'friends'?"

"This is 'Ro and that's Wuffers—my bodyguards."

"Bodyguards?" Howard chuckled at that. "I know you think you're hot stuff—but since when have you needed bodyguards?"

"What—you think I don't have that many admirers?" Duo chided. "I gotta fight 'em off, Howie."

The old man snorted wryly. "In yer dreams, maybe. C'mon in and set a spell," he invited, turning around to lead the way. "An' fellas—," he shot back over his shoulder. "You can put the pieces away. Duo's safe with me—I'm not into boys—'specially ones young enough to be my kid."

Maxwell entered without hesitation, and Chang and I were close on his heels, wary of a trap. But it would have been damn near impossible to set up even the simplest ambush in Howard's cluttered trailer.

Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling along the walls, and furniture was tucked in among piles of machinery, car parts, and other miscellaneous junk.

Duo looked around and grinned. "Aw, Howie—nice place! Way better than that last heap you lived in."

Wufei's jaw dropped and I could only imagine the effort it took for him to remain silent.

"Thanks," Howard said, beaming with pride. "I got a few more things to get rid of—but I wanna fix 'em first—get 'em running, before I try an' sell 'em."

"Ah, what exactly do you sell?" Wufei asked coolly, his dark eyes raking our surroundings with a critical glare.

"Cars, bikes, washers, dryers…pretty much anything with an engine."

"Don't forget planes," Duo cut in. "You made that crop duster fly like a bird, remember?"

Howard chuckled. "Yeah—like a big, fat turkey. God, Duo, that thing had no maneuverability at all!"

"But it _flew_," Duo persisted. He threw an arm across the old man's shoulders, turning to face us. "Guys—Howard here is the best mechanic this side of the Mississippi. An' I guarantee he'll fix us up with a car."

"No problem," came the unhesitating reply. "Ya want a drink?"

"No!" I said quickly, giving Duo a stern glare. "Um, Mister—er—Howard, we really are on a tight schedule. If we could just talk about the loan of a car?" I pulled my wallet from my pocket. "We'd be happy to pay a rental fee."

The old man's face turned stony at that, and he gave Duo a sidelong glance. "Who the hell are these two, kid? And what makes 'em think I'd accept money from you? Are you with them voluntarily?"

I gaped at him. He thought we were _kidnapping _Duo?

Maxwell chuckled. "More or less, Howie," he said in a placating tone. "Honestly, they _are _protecting me…apparently even from you." He turned toward the whiskered man, and his face turned serious. "I can't tell you a lot right now—but we lost our transportation, and it's really important for us to keep moving."

Howard searched his face warily. "You in trouble?"

"We have to get somewhere," I cut in quickly, not wanting the old man to get the idea we were being chased. If he knew that much, he might wonder who was chasing us and why—and I just didn't like where that could all lead.

The old man didn't even glance at me. "I'm talking to Duo," he said curtly. "Not _you_. Talk t'me, kid."

"I—can't," Duo admitted, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Well, then, it ain't police after you—cuz you'd tell me that. Hell, you'd brag about it." Howard shook his head, sighing, and fished in his pocket, pressing a set of keys into Duo's hand. "I dunno what kinda trouble you're in—that you can't even tell _me _about. But if you won't stay for a drink or a bite to eat, you must really be hip-deep in it."

"I am," Duo admitted. He fiddled with the keys for a moment. "Y'mind if I use the john while I'm here?"

"Go right ahead," Howard offered, pointing to a door beside the tiny kitchen. "Through there."

Duo disappeared into the bathroom, and Howard fixed a suspicious look on Wufei and me. "You two are protecting him?"

I nodded.

"From what?"

"Anyone and everyone," Chang replied vaguely.

Howard scowled fiercely. "Fine! Be tight-lipped about it! But I'm warning you right now, you let anything happen to that boy, and I'll pull every string I can—call in every favor ever owed me—to track you both down."

I fixed a menacing look on him. "That works both ways," I said coldly. "If anyone finds out we were here, and I even suspect you told them anything, I'll be back to take your life apart piece by piece."

I couldn't tell if the look he gave me was colder or warmer—but he gave a curt nod just as Duo came back out of the bathroom.

"Ready to go," said the braided man, tossing the keys up and catching them. "What's your car look like, Howie?"

"Blue Chevy—parked out by the mailbox. Tank's full. And don't worry about returning it in any hurry."

Duo nodded, his expression turning rather uncomfortable. "I'm sorry I can't stay for that drink, Howie. I'd have loved to catch up with you."

Howard flicked a glance my way, and put a hand on Duo's shoulder. "'S okay, kid. We can reminisce some other time."

"Yeah, sure," he said without much conviction.

The old man pulled Duo into a quick hug, before pushing him back to arm's length. "Whatever you're running from, kid, you came to the right place." His gaze searched Duo's pale face. "Anything else you need?"

Maxwell shook his head. "Just—your silence," he said in a near-whisper. "If anyone shows up to ask—."

"I haven't seen you in years, kid," Howard assured him.

He showed us to the door, leaning in it to watch us go, and I felt a little guilty for my suspicions, as we headed for the car he'd so freely loaned us.

"I told you Howard was good people," Duo insisted.

"He seems that way," I admitted. "In fact, he seems a bit too good to be true."

Maxwell turned a disbelieving look towards me. "Jesus, Yuy! Don't you ever let up? The man fuckin' handed me his car keys without batting an eye—and you still doubt him?"

"I have to," I argued reasonably. "I have to ask myself what would happen if Khushrenada's people showed up here and started asking questions."

"He'd tell 'em he hasn't seen me in years," Duo said stubbornly.

"And if they waved fifty grand under his nose?"

"He'd tell 'em to fuckin' shove it, before he'd sell out a friend!" came the heated reply.

We'd reached the Chevy by that time, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. It was a nondescript vehicle, but appeared to be in good repair. "Keys." I held my hand out expectantly.

Maxwell stopped in his tracks, glaring at me. "I don't even get to drive?" he demanded.

"No." I wiggled my fingers impatiently.

He shoved the keys into my hand, muttering a curse under his breath, and then folding his arms across his chest.

"You're wounded," I reminded him. "I want you to rest."

Chang busied himself stuffing our luggage in the trunk, while Duo climbed in the back seat, letting out a delighted yelp when he found a forgotten pack of cigarettes.

As I pulled out of the driveway, Howard was still standing on the steps of his trailer, watching us. I could practically hear his warning echoing in my ears—what he'd do if we let anything happen to Duo. And I hoped he meant every word of it.

I hoped that Duo had yet another friend as loyal as Barton. And not just because of the trouble it would cause if he wasn't; but because I never wanted to see the same kind of pain on Duo's face that I'd seen when he realized Hilde sold him out. I wanted to believe Howard was made of sterner stuff. But then, only time would tell.


	38. Hell and Heaven

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Eight: Hell and Heaven

It wasn't until I nearly drifted off the road that I realized how flat-out exhausted I was. Only Duo's alarmed shout, and the shudder of a tire slipping onto the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road kept me from a disastrous mistake.

I pulled over to catch my breath, and still the shaking of my hands.

"Jesus, Yuy. Let me drive!" demanded Maxwell, leaning over the back seat and exchanging a worried look with Chang.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, stifling a yawn. "I guess there's no harm in it."

"No harm, he says," Duo sighed, shaking his head. "Nearly fucking killed us—."

"We need to find a place to sleep," Wufei said groggily, giving me the impression he'd dozed off before me and only been awakened by our near-miss.

"Yeah, well." I gestured vaguely at the ratty old car we were driving. "Not like we can pull into a five-star hotel with valet service in _this _and not draw attention."

Duo had gotten out of the back seat, and I traded places with him, managing to unobtrusively give his hand a squeeze as we passed each other on the side of the car away from Wufei. His grin as he slid behind the wheel was well worth the tiny risk.

"Maybe if we get on the highway, we can find a Motel 6, or some family place," Chang said between yawns.

"Yeah, that'll look great," I sighed. "Three beat-up, bloody, grubby guys with hardly any luggage. Won't draw much attention at all. Maybe if we just pull into a rest stop we can sack out in the car."

"It's two days to the next safe house," Chang said with a dubious look at Maxwell. "We need to stop and dress that wound—and get some decent sleep."

"I've got an idea," Duo spoke up.

We both looked warily at him.

"Seriously," he said. "If you aren't fussy about accommodations, I can find us a place no one will look twice at us."

"Maxwell, I could sleep on a bed of nails about now," sighed Wufei.

"Well then, you two just relax and put yourself in Duo Maxwell's capable hands," suggested our witness, pulling back out onto the road. "I looked at that map, too. And I know where we can blend right in."

"Thought you'd never been this way," I mumbled, already feeling drowsy as I stretched out on the back seat.

"I haven't—but all cities are alike, Yuy. There are certain places no one wants to know anyone else's business but their own."

"Uh-huh." I'd have asked for more details, but having trusted Maxwell this far, there was no reason to doubt he could handle finding us a place to sleep. And meanwhile, it was nice to let go for awhile, close my eyes, and let the motion of the car rock me to sleep.

I woke up as we were pulling into a parking lot, and a flickering neon sign cast light across my face.

"What is this place?" Chang asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Dunkin' Donuts," replied Maxwell. "Lemme grab a couple of things from the trunk and we can go inside and get coffee."

I sat up and rubbed briskly at my face, then looked out the window.

We were in a very rundown section of what appeared to be a good-sized city. To our right was the aforementioned Dunkin' Donuts, with a sign proclaiming they were open all night long. And to our left was a row of seedy-looking bars, shops, and hotels. There were hookers on just about every visible street corner.

"Fuck," muttered Chang wearily. "Talk about slumming—."

"Hey, no one will give us a second glance," Duo pointed out. "In this kind of neighborhood, the less you know, the better."

He had a point. We could have dragged a bloody body out of the trunk, and no one would have given a damn.

"C'mon, boys," Duo urged, locking the driver's door, and going around back to the trunk.

By the time Chang and I got out and stretched to loosen up limbs stiff from hours of inactivity, he'd pulled his backpack out, emptied it, and stuffed a few items back in.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Well we can't exactly haul three duffel bags around," Duo told me, giving me a look as if I were a bit simple. "I grabbed the necessities."

"Don't ask," Wufei said with a weary sigh. "He seems to have a plan."

"That's what scares me," I teased rather half-heartedly.

We walked into Dunkin' Donuts without drawing so much as a glance, and got coffees, toasted sandwiches, and a bag of donuts. The corner booth we chose gave us a view of the car and the surrounding neighborhood.

Duo seemed singularly pleased with himself. I guessed that being able to handle this part of our undercover journey made him feel useful. And seeing the animated sparkle in his eyes, I wouldn't have dreamed of taking that away from him.

"—where we can catch some sleep, an' maybe even hot showers—," he was saying between bites of his meal.

"What kind of hotel?" asked my partner, frowning out the window at the row of dilapidated buildings.

"Well it won't exactly be the Ritz," shrugged Duo. "But it'll do. You can lock the door, and we can all rest easy for a few hours. Trust me—_no _one would ever look for us here."

Chang snorted wryly. "No shit."

Stuffing the last of his food into his mouth, and washing it down with a swig of coffee, Duo stood up and brushed off the crumbs, picking up the backpack. "Be right back, fellas. I gotta change clothes."

"What? Why?" I asked with a frown.

He smiled mysteriously. "Part of our cover."

"Cover?"

"Trust me."

Aw, fuck, I hated it when he said that. It forced my hand yet again.

He strode off quickly, ducking into the men's room to make whatever change he had in mind.

"What do you suppose he's up to?" I asked my partner.

He merely shook his head. "Do you honestly expect me to be able to follow the inner workings of Duo Maxwell's mind?" The dark eyes were somber. "I'm still trying to figure out why he saved my life out on that deck."

I blinked in surprise, realizing that Maxwell had, indeed, saved my partner's life by tackling him into the hot tub. He'd not only saved him; he'd also gotten shot in the process. Not that I think it occurred to Duo at the time—but he came damn close to trading his own life for Wufei's.

Granted, that would have been devastating to our cause—but at the same time, it warmed my heart that the man I loved was given to unselfish gestures. It made him seem oddly noble.

Of course, when the bathroom door opened and Maxwell swaggered out, all those deep thoughts flew right out of my head. My jaw dropped as I took in the tight leather pants tucked into tall, laced-up boots, and the short mesh top that left his flat stomach exposed. His hair was pulled into a ponytail, instead of its customary braid, and spread across his back to cover the angel wing tattoo that wanted to peek over the low waistband.

On the one hand, he looked really, really hot—and on the other, he looked like—.

"—a prostitute?" Chang blurted.

Duo sauntered over and bent to whisper in my ear. "You boys want some company? There's a hotel right down the street that caters to that sort of thing."

While my groin reacted predictably, my rational side assured me this was a bad, bad idea.

"Are you fucking nuts?" I hissed in a livid whisper.

"Not at all," he replied calmly. His indigo eyes slid across to Chang, who was several shades of purple by that time. "If the three of us walk into that hotel, they won't think twice. No one will give a shit, and no one will remember having seen us." He gestured around the shabby interior of the Dunkin' Donuts. "Has anyone even batted an eye?"

In fact, he was right. There was an obvious hooker up at the counter buying coffee, and a couple of people at a corner booth who looked like homeless folks trying to warm up before having to return to the streets. Not one of them even seemed aware of our presence.

"Just follow my lead, boys," Duo said without missing a beat, taking each of us by a hand.

He escorted us out onto the sidewalk, sashaying along as if he'd been born in that neighborhood, and after tossing the backpack into the trunk with the rest of our stuff, explaining that luggage of any kind would look suspicious, he began leading us down the street towards one of the seedier-looking hotels.

"Wait!" I protested, seeing an open drug store. "We may not be able to bring a change of clothes, but I'm getting some bandages and ointment for that wound. You two wait here."

"Sure thing, hon!" Duo called aloud, tugging Wufei over towards a brick building and leaning comfortably against it. "You get all the supplies you want, an' I'll help ya use 'em up."

I must have been beet red—Lord knows I could feel the heat radiating off my face as a couple of scantily-clad female streetwalkers eyed me and shook their heads in apparent disappointment.

"Hands off, girls! He's with me." I heard Duo call chidingly to them, as I dashed across to the store and inside.

I found the first aid supplies quickly enough, and paused by the condoms and lube, wondering if it was worth the look it would bring to Wufei's face for me to buy some. But I opted for saving the money, since I knew damned well there'd be no using them tonight—not with Chang in the room.

Besides, in a pinch, antibiotic ointment would have worked just fine.

I must have been smirking as I jogged back across the street, because Wufei gave me a quizzical look, and Duo grinned lasciviously. "You look eager, sweetie," he said loudly enough for even a casual passerby to hear.

"Can't wait," I said breezily, wondering just how hard he'd keep trying to embarrass me. And frankly, walking down that street with his hand in mine and a nondescript pharmacy bag in the other, I felt hideously conspicuous. I'd spent most of my life concealing my sexuality—and parading down a public sidewalk looking like some male prostitute's latest "trick" was horribly uncomfortable.

I glanced over at Wufei, realizing it must be ten times worse for him; not only did he despise gays, but he was being made to look like one himself. In fact, he was being made to look like a homosexual john about to engage in a threesome. I felt a pang of sympathy at the rather constipated look on his face. Or maybe it was just shock. Either way, he didn't look happy about our arrangement at all.

We paused at the door to a shabby hotel, and Duo reached back to slide my hand down onto his ass. "Whatever I do, Yuy, play along. You too, Chang."

"Maxwell, I can't pretend to—." Wufei broke off with a squawk of protest as Duo slid an arm around his waist.

"Sure ya can." He pulled us both into the smoky, dark lobby and edged us over to the desk.

The fat man behind the counter with a smelly cigar clenched in his teeth, eyed us up and down, a faint sneer on his lips. But I noticed the beady eyes lingered on Duo, running slowly over his face and down to his crotch.

"Ain't seen _you _before," he growled out in a voice made rough by years of smoking.

Duo smirked back dauntlessly. "Yeah, well, all the _decent _hotels are full-up, chubby. So we gotta settle. Ya got a room?"

The man's face darkened at the slight, and his deep-set eyes narrowed. "How many hours ya want?"

Duo snuggled up against Wufei, who growled a warning. "For _these _two?" Maxwell asked, casting a speculative look my way.

"All night," I snapped curtly, taking out my wallet.

The hotel proprietor gave a short bark of laughter. "Think a skinny-assed kid like him will last that long?" he asked me, his gaze predatory. "I know some more—substantial—whores. They could provide a shitload more entertainment."

Duo was instantly in the man's face, leaning menacingly across the desk and pointing a finger at the bulbous nose. "You keep your fuckin' mouth shut!" he snarled. "These two are _mine_—an' I ain't sharin' 'em wit' no one!"

God—he sounded like so many hookers and pimps I'd heard in the past. It was a little unsettling that he knew the tone and language so well.

Wufei actually stepped up to the plate then, albeit with a stiffness to his tone that spoke of his complete unease. "Trust me," he told the fat guy. "He's more than enough man for both of us."

The hotel clerk snorted derisively. "Sure, he's pretty, but—."

"Beautiful," I corrected him automatically. "He's beautiful." Then I mentally kicked myself as Duo turned a wide-eyed look on me, his expression slightly horrified.

Yes, I was blowing it…I could tell.

The clerk guffawed, leaning back in his chair and slapping a knee. "Gawd!" he crowed loudly. "Got a coupla live ones, don't ya, kid?" He tossed a key on the counter, glancing at me through tears of mirth. "That'll be one-fifty."

"For one night?" Wufei demanded, looking around us in horror. "In _this _roach-infested dump?"

The man gave an unrepentant shrug. "I c'n get twenty an hour, an' you want to tie up a room all night—eight hours—that's a hundred and sixty bucks. I'm givin' you a bargain at one-fifty."

Duo snatched the key off the counter and pressed up against me, indigo eyes hooded. "C'mon and pay the man," he urged, his lips mere inches away. "We can get upstairs an' down to business."

He ground his hips into mine, and I gasped in reflex, feeling an immediate rush of blood to my groin. My hands actually shook as I counted out the bills, and the clerk seemed to find that vastly amusing.

The next instant, Duo had Wufei and me by the hands, dragging us bodily down the hall and up the stairs.

"Jesus, Maxwell!" Chang spat under his breath. "How can you stand that man thinking you're a hooker?"

"Considering I dressed and played the part, I guess I can deal with it," came the complacent reply.

"But you got mad when _I _called you one," I reminded him.

"That's 'cause _your _opinion matters."

"Since when?"

He darted me a sidelong look and shrugged. "Since always."

I pondered that, wondering if he meant he'd cared when I called him a hooker the first time we met, three years earlier. And if he had—_why_?

He released our hands to fumble at the lock and push open the door of a small, stuffy-smelling room. The word "dump" did not begin to describe the place. Its cracked plaster and graffiti-covered walls spoke of long neglect and abuse. But as we shuffled inside and closed the door, I felt a moment's relief.

Granted, we weren't exactly "safe," but we were a damn sight less conspicuous here than we would have been checking into the local Holiday Inn. And, at least for the moment, we were off the streets and behind locked doors.

"Hmm—not bad," Duo commented, walking into the bathroom to see if the plumbing worked. I heard the thump of old pipes as water gurgled into the sink. "Hey—we even got hot water!"

"God, Maxwell—tell me you aren't serious!" Wufei blurted.

Duo stuck his head out of the doorless room and gawked at him.

"Do you really think these accommodations are adequate?"

Shrugging and putting his hands on his hips, Duo leaned back against the door frame. "Depends on what ya need, 'Fei-kins. If a five-star hotel is all you've ever known, this place is Hell. But after living in alleys and empty warehouses—I consider it tolerable."

My partner dropped his gaze to the floor, and stomped hard on something crawling past. "You're right," he conceded. "Certainly we could do worse. But—we could also do better."

"Not in _this _neighborhood," came the response.

"Duo—why don't you take a shower first?" I suggested. "I want to clean that wound and get it bandaged before you lie down on any of the linens in this place."

Duo chuckled. "Linens? Is _that _what you call flea-infested sheets an' pillowcases?"

Wufei had pulled back the comforter on the bed. "God—if only it were just fleas," he sighed, glaring at telltale stains on the fabric.

"Flip 'em upside down, 'Fei," suggested Maxwell, already starting to unlace the tight black pants he was wearing. "The mattress, too."

"Maxwell, _please _don't strip in front of me," whined my partner.

"Close your eyes," came the unsympathetic reply, as Duo peeled his shirt off, revealing the hastily-applied and blood-caked bandage over his left shoulder blade. "Unless, of course, you liked the last show enough to want an encore."

Chang made a strangled noise and busied himself with the bed.

I walked over and gently checked the dressing on Duo's back. "Does it hurt much?"

He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth as I pressed against the padding. "'S tender," he admitted.

"He should have antibiotics," Wufei said with a frown.

"Maybe Trowa's friend Catherine can get them. He said she works for a veterinarian in the off-season."

"I'm not taking horse pills!" Duo protested.

"Amoxycillin is the same for humans or pets," I told him. "It's the dosage that changes."

"Still not interested, Yuy!" He asserted, slipping out of his skin-tight pants, and tossing them casually aside. "Ya wanna take off the bandage so I can wash up?"

"It'll probably reopen the wound a bit," I warned.

"A necessary evil," Chang interjected. "It will help flush it out some more."

I peeled away the covering, wincing at the redness around the gash, and the fresh blood that welled up. "Clean it as thoroughly as you can," I told Duo. "I'll have the bandages and ointment ready after your shower."

He looked over his shoulder at me, so close I could feel the warm breath on my cheek. "Thanks, Yuy."

"For what?"

"Takin' care of me."

"It's my job," I pointed out.

"Doesn't mean you have to _like _it," he grinned back.

Before I could reply, he headed for the shower, leaving me to look helplessly at Chang, who was struggling with the mattress.

"Here—let me help."

Together we flipped the musty thing over, relieved to find a somewhat cleaner side underneath. And then Chang set about putting the sheets back on, finding that they too were less soiled-looking from the opposite side.

He paused the moment we heard the shower start up, and the rustle of the plastic curtain as Duo stepped into it. "Why, Yuy?"

"Why what?"

"Why the _hell_ would Maxwell take a bullet for me?"

"He didn't 'take' one—it just grazed him," I pointed out.

"That's splitting hairs and you know it!" Chang snapped.

I studied the tautness of his features and the rigid tension across his shoulders. "It's really bothering you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is! I was supposed to be protecting _him_—not vice versa."

"Don't sweat it, Wufei. You know he won't. In fact, he'll probably enjoy bragging about the scar and how he got it. You know how he loves telling a story."

"That's not the point," said my oh-so conscientious partner. "He got that scar saving _my _worthless hide. Why would he _do _that?"

"Maybe he likes you," I teased wearily, wanting nothing more than to collapse on the bed and sleep for days, filthy sheets notwithstanding. But I had to stay awake long enough to dress Duo's wound after he showered.

Chang snorted at my offhand remark. "You know damned well he's got the hots for you, Yuy." Onyx eyes suddenly pinned me with a too-knowing look. "I suspect that's a mutual feeling?"

I wanted to try to play dumb and bluff my way through—but I had to face facts. Wufei was a detective, too, and not without powers of observation. He'd already asked me straight out if I was gay—and though I'd danced around the answer, I was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"I guess it is," I conceded, looking my partner squarely in the eyes. "I probably should have spoken up about my—preferences—a long time ago—when we first met."

He was shaking his head through almost that entire sentence. "No, Yuy. If you had, I'd never have given you a chance. I'd have been judgmental and narrow-minded about it—and I might have missed out on working with one of the finest, most dedicated detectives I've ever known."

Wow. I was pretty well floored by his recently-discovered tolerance and acceptance.

"I don't know what to say," I admitted. "I'd have expected you to at least condemn me for lying all this time."

"Technically, you didn't," he pointed out. "You were discreet enough that it never even crossed my mind you might be gay, until I saw you with Maxwell—and Winner and Barton. And although you were evasive when I asked you point blank about your orientation, you didn't lie to me."

"You want to talk about splitting hairs?" I countered. "I might as well have."

"But you didn't."

I nodded reluctantly, still wondering how this conversation was going to affect our future working relationship. "So—where does this leave us?" I asked. "Would you prefer a different partner after this? Or do you plan to tell the Captain about me—about _Maxwell _and me?"

He shook his head. "I have no intention of telling anyone," he said firmly. "You've always been the soul of professionalism around me, and I have no qualms about working with you." He drew a deep breath and continued. "While I don't condone your involvement with a protected witness, even _I _have to admit Maxwell is hard to deny—and impossible to ignore." He grinned ruefully. "You never stood a chance, Yuy. I both envy and pity you."

"Envy me?"

"You've found someone—someone who brings a sparkle to your eyes and a smile to your lips." A smile teased his own lips as he spoke. "At least he does when he isn't aggravating the hell out of you."

"And you pity me _why_?"

"It's _Maxwell_," he quipped, breaking into a genuine grin.

I found myself smiling along with him.

"In all seriousness," he added. "You could do worse—_far _worse. Maxwell's—intriguing—at the very least. And—I wouldn't mind having him for a friend myself."

"I think you already do," I pointed out. "If you were still just a cop to him, would he have given a shit about your life? Or would he have just saved his own ass, and left you to fend for yourself—like he did with the llama?"

"Point taken," he conceded.

The patter of water from the shower had stopped by that time, and Chang and I fell silent as Duo emerged from the bathroom, clad once again in the tight leather pants, and with his hair wrapped in a towel. I couldn't help but notice the fresh droplets of water clinging to the skin of his chest, and I looked down at the floor to catch my breath.

"I feel much better!" he declared firmly. "Your turn."

"Go ahead," I told Chang. "I'll take care of Duo's wound."

"You do that," he smirked, shaking his head slightly. He headed for the bathroom, but paused as he drew even with Duo. "Maxwell—I know it's a little late to say it, but thank you for saving my life."

Duo looked up at him with a startled, deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. "Uh—you're welcome?"

Wufei patted him on the shoulder as he passed, and turned the corner into the bathroom.

Duo looked at me blankly, and I patted the bed beside me. "Come sit."

He did as he was told, settling on the edge of the bed, and casting a rather quizzical gaze in the direction Chang had gone. He flinched in surprise as I touched his shoulder, and then let out an even more startled gasp as I drew him in for a lingering kiss.

When our lips parted, his worried gaze immediately sought the doorless bathroom. "Chang—."

"—knows," I finished for him, letting him know it wouldn't be the end of the world if my partner saw us kiss. In fact, I took advantage of his open-mouthed astonishment to kiss him again, longer and deeper.

This time when I paused, Duo looked uncertainly up at me. "How?"

"He guessed." I gave a small shrug. "He's not completely clueless, you know. He _is _a detective."

"He's not—?"

"Angry? Disappointed in me? Disgusted?" I shrugged again. "Aside from reminding me of departmental regulations concerning fraternization with a witness, he took it well."

Relief washed over Duo's face, and he smiled warmly. "So he's still your friend."

"Hai."

"Good." A slim-fingered hand reached to stroke my cheek. "I'd have hated for you to lose your best friend over me."

"He's not—." Well, come to think of it, I guessed Chang was the closest thing to a friend I had. So that would automatically make him my _best_ friend, wouldn't it?

Duo smirked mischievously. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

"I suppose so," I conceded, watching as Duo unwrapped his hair and began blotting the moisture from the long strands.

"Then I'm glad he lived up to my expectations," Duo continued. "I'd have been terribly disappointed if he turned out to be as much of an asshole as I took him for at first."

I shook my head, slightly bemused. "And yet you ended up having more faith in him than I did."

"It was hope," he said quietly. "I just _hoped _he respected you so much that a little thing like sexual orientation wouldn't change it."

"Well—we'll have to see how that works out over the long term," I shrugged. "Now, how about letting me look at that bullet wound?"

He turned sideways and pulled his hair out of the way, so I could see the deeply torn graze across the back of his shoulder blade.

"Mm—nasty—but curable," I predicted, pleased at how much better it looked with the caked blood washed away and a clean injury to work with. While it looked painful, the damage really was mostly superficial.

I smoothed antibiotic ointment onto it, enjoying the feel of Duo's skin under my fingertips, but relieved nonetheless to cover it with a couple of oversized bandaids. I pressed them firmly into place, making sure every centimeter of the gash was covered.

"Tell me something," I asked him. "Before—back when we first picked you up and all—when I called you a—y'know. Why did my opinion matter at all? Wasn't I just another prick of a cop?"

He gave a quiet chuckle. "I wish," he drawled ruefully, half-turning and looking at me over his shoulder. "I'll tell you something, Yuy, if you promise not to let it go to your head."

I nodded earnestly.

"Over the years, I've done a lot of shit…stole, drank, did drugs, slept around…" He shrugged almost apologetically. "About the only thing I never did was whoring." He half-closed his eyes and looked up at me from under thick lashes. "You wanna know why?"

I nodded in return, captivated by the glimmer of warmth in those eyes.

"Because one day I got picked up for B and E, and when the two fuckheads who caught me hauled me into the police station, there was this drop-dead gorgeous blue-eyed cop who mistook me for a hooker." The dark lashes dropped to hide his eyes, so I couldn't read his expression—but he sounded—pained. "I couldn't forget the look in those beautiful eyes—," he continued in a husky whisper. "—the scorn and contempt. An' every time I was down an' out and thinking how easy it'd be to trade a fuck or a blow-job for some quick cash—I saw those blue eyes again." He looked up suddenly, his expression wide-open and vulnerable. "More than anything, I wanted those eyes to look at me without scorn—without contempt. I wanted—I dunno—approval? Respect? Or _something_." A faint smile trembled on his lips. "I guess I fell for you at first sight, an' it just took all this time for me to get your attention."

My breath caught in my throat, and I let my fingers trace lightly over his lips and slide back across his cheeks and into the thick chestnut hair, pulling his face close enough so I could put my forehead against his. "You had my attention all along. I just needed to open my eyes and see _you_, and not the image I wanted to see—the image that let me stereotype you and file away the memory of the most beautiful guy I'd ever met."

He melted into the kiss, closing his eyes and sighing as I took over and explored his mouth with my tongue, perfectly content to lose myself in that moment forever.

"Ahem."

We jerked guiltily apart, and I felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair.

"Just because I said I can deal with your—sexuality—does not give you license to make out in front of me," Chang said coolly.

In spite of the way he phrased his complaint almost teasingly, I could tell Chang was genuinely bothered by the kiss.

But it was Duo who surprised me by standing up and starting to rub his still-wet hair with the towel, while he apologized for our behavior. "Sorry, 'Fei—my fault," he said quickly, taking the blame on himself. "I promise I'll behave from now on…I just lost my head for a second there."

Chang eyed him for a long moment and then fixed a skeptical look on me.

"Won't happen again," I assured him. _At least not in front of you…_

He just gave a derisive snort and gestured to the bathroom. "Your turn at cleaning up, Yuy. And in spite of putting dirty clothes back on, I do feel much better for having showered."

I darted a glance at the bed, wondering how we'd manage three people in a double bed when two were gay and one was a homophobe, but Wufei waved me aside.

"We're all adults, Yuy. I'm sure we can share a bed without too much blushing, snickering or groping, can't we?"

Duo turned a mischievous look on my partner. "I'll behave if _you_ promise to," he teased.

"Scout's honor," came the dry response.

I left them to their own devices and made my way into the bathroom, gratefully stripping out of my two-day-old clothes and stepping into the tub.

I had to admit, even though the flow from the shower head was sporadic at best, it was hot enough and soothing enough to enjoy. And enjoy it I did—lingering under the weak spray until it began to get decidedly cool. I figured since I was the last to shower, it didn't matter if I let the hot water run out.

When I emerged from the bathroom, rubbing briskly at my unruly hair to dry it as much as possible before sleeping on it, I nearly tripped over the chair Chang had wedged under the doorknob for security.

_Good thinking!_

I'd have to remember to compliment him on his ingenuity.

As I turned towards the bed, I was treated to the genuinely charming sight of Duo Maxwell and Chang Wufei curled up side by side sound asleep. It looked like Chang had taken one side, giving Maxwell the center and leaving the side nearest the bathroom for me. Each man had a blanket of his own, but somehow they'd ended up back to back, looking almost cozy together. I noticed Maxwell had made the concession of not only sleeping clothed, but putting his shirt on as well as his pants. I guessed that assuaged Chang's prudish hang-ups.

Of course, it left me feeling mildly disappointed; but once I slipped into the spot Duo had left me, and he rolled over, sighed, and wrapped an arm around my waist, I felt much better about it all. I caught the end of his still-damp braid, draping it across my chest, and I drifted off to sleep with Maxwell snuggled close and his warm breath against my neck. Heaven.


	39. On the Road Again

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Thirty Nine: On the Road Again

It seemed like minutes instead of hours, when a sharp rap on the door jarred me awake.

"Check-out time in fifteen minutes!" called the gravelly voice of our "friend" the desk clerk.

"Then go the fuck away for fifteen minutes!" Duo called back irritably.

I heard a muffled chuckle and footsteps fading away down the hall.

When I turned my head and opened my eyes, I was met with a warm indigo gaze that made for a much pleasanter awakening than the pounding on the door.

"Hey," I murmured drowsily.

"Hey," he grinned back, snuggling a little closer. "'S nice to wake up with you still here," he whispered, laying a palm against my cheek and running his thumb over my lips. "Y'think I'd be breaking my promise to behave if I stole a kiss?"

From the other side of the bed I heard a heavy sigh. "So long as it doesn't lead to the two of you fucking right next to me—go ahead."

The weary resignation in Chang's voice made me smirk, and then Duo kissed the smirk right off my face, pressing still closer and tangling his legs with mine…and then his tongue with mine…and if my partner hadn't been behind him, I think a lot more things would've gotten tangled up.

"Mm—love you," I murmured as quietly as possible when our lips parted.

"Sucker," he teased, his chiding tone softened by the heat in his eyes. He rolled over me, slowly and suggestively, before climbing out of bed and heading for the bathroom. And meanwhile, I lay there savoring the way he'd felt on top of me.

"Oh, you are _so _lost," came a rueful sigh.

I looked over to find Chang's dark eyes fixed on me with a combination of amusement and concern. I think I might have grinned stupidly at him. "Hai."

But his worried expression only intensified. "Tell me something…what do you plan to do when he goes into relocation?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head as the pleasant feelings just melted away. "I have no idea, Chang," I admitted, my voice a bit hoarse. "And with the need to focus on keeping him alive, I haven't allowed myself to think that far ahead." At least, I'd tried not to.

"Oh, Yuy."

The pity in his voice made me swallow a lump that rose in my throat. It wouldn't do to dwell on my bleak future without Maxwell while I needed to be grounded in the present. "I'll be fine, Chang," I said gruffly. "I'll just—cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Well, if you need a hand with the crossing, I'm sure I'll be around to lean on," he offered gently.

I managed a weak, but genuine smile. "Thanks."

"That's what partners are for."

Partners. I was singularly relieved that he still wanted to be mine, and just plain _awed_ that he'd come so far so fast—from a homophobic, judgmental ass, to a man willing to accept others as they were. Or at least, he was trying to. I could tell there were suppressed feelings there—old hurts and grudges that were hard to let go of. But he was doing it remarkably well.

Then again, when someone saves your life, a debt is certainly owed. And if Chang's way of repaying his debt was to tolerate Maxwell's place in my affections, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Plus, I honestly felt he couldn't help but reluctantly admire Maxwell's spunk and sass. Despite all the setbacks and pitfalls, I knew he'd been warming to my irresistible lover since the moment we left the hospital.

Duo strolled back out of the bathroom, unbraiding his hair as he walked.

"Why the new 'do'?" Wufei asked, sitting up and stretching.

"Gotta look like I did when we got here," replied our witness. "Only messier." He tousled his luxurious mane of hair and pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail. Then he grinned cheekily. "Do I look well and thoroughly fucked?"

I splayed a hand over my face, imagining all the ways I could well and thoroughly fuck him. "Close enough to fool the desk clerk," I hazarded.

"You sure?" he asked from much closer. "Or d'you wanna help mess me up a little? The disguise would work better if I smelled like sex—all sweaty an' stuff."

"Not this morning," I sighed. "We need to get moving—not lie around in bed."

"Who said anything about lying around?"

"Plus we're down to ten minutes," I added with a stern look.

"I could—."

"Maxwell!" growled Chang.

"Yes, mom. I'll behave," he sighed in mock disappointment.

He was in rare form, cocky as hell, after having procured us our showers and room. And frankly, it was nice to see him so upbeat after all we'd been through.

Chang and I took turns using the bathroom, and with a few minutes to spare, the three of us headed downstairs to check out.

The same heavyset clerk was at the desk, reading the racing section of the morning paper. He looked over the edge with a leer as I tossed the key on the counter.

"Everything satisfactory, boys?" he ran a practiced gaze over Duo, who was slumped against my shoulder, sort of leaning on me for support. "Looks like your little boy toy might've had a rough night."

"Nothin' I can't handle," Duo replied with a bored yawn.

"He was—splendid," Wufei said stiffly, holding out an arm, which Duo took with a delighted grin.

I gave the sour-faced clerk a dark glare. "Next time keep your suggestions to yourself. We can pick our own whores, thanks."

I followed my two companions out into the early morning sunshine, listening to Duo compliment Wufei on his dignified exit from the seedy hotel. He stopped short of bringing up the subject of homophobia, but made it abundantly clear that he appreciated the way Chang didn't act disgusted when he touched him.

And with typical Chang class and culture, Wufei politely explained that he was _not _disgusted by Duo's touch—as long as his boundaries were respected. He even went so far as to use the phrase "among friends" in his dialogue, eliciting a startled look and then a wide smile from my lover. Yeah, I could see a fast-developing friendship there—and I almost breathed an audible sigh of relief, knowing our job had become a million times easier now that we could all work together amicably.

We ate a quick breakfast at the same Dunkin' Donuts from the previous night, and then went to the car, taking our duffel bags from the trunk and putting them in the back seat, so we could have a change of clothing at our next pit stop.

Duo, of course, didn't wait that long, but peeled out of his snug clothes while Chang was driving through city streets towards the highway.

"God, I'll never be able to wear these again!" he complained, rolling up the clubbing outfit and slipping into faded jeans and a loose tee shirt. "They'll make me feel just—dirty." He flung himself back against the pile of duffel bags, fished out his brush, and began taking out the ponytail.

I gave him an encouraging smirk, enjoying the rare sight of his unbound hair as he started brushing it. "You didn't look dirty," I said, recalling the way the leather hugged his ass. "You looked—hot."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Nice try, Yuy. But you won't get me into 'em again." His gaze turned a little thoughtful. "I didn't used to mind feeling a little 'down and dirty.' But now—?" He sighed deeply. "Goddamn you, Yuy—you're takin' all the fun out of things I used to enjoy."

"Me? How?" I asked, genuinely clueless this time.

"I told you," he reminded me, while separating his silky hair into sections. "Your opinion matters."

I scowled at him. "Did you see contempt in my eyes last night?"

"No—just in the way that desk clerk looked at us," he admitted, fingers deftly twining his hair into the familiar, characteristic braid. "But I didn't like it."

"Tired of playing the slut, Maxwell?" Chang asked, picking up on Duo's change of heart very quickly. His tone turned a bit teasing. "So Yuy's spoiled you for other men, hm?"

Oh—now he was including _me _in his taunting? That seemed rather undeserved.

"Bite me, Chang," muttered Duo sulkily, tying off his braid and flipping it over his shoulder in a contemptuous gesture, before folding his arms and looking out the window.

"Not in this lifetime," came the smooth reply. "Wouldn't dream of stepping on Yuy's territory." He glanced at me for a reaction, but I simply looked out the window like Maxwell was doing.

I heard a satisfied chuckle from my partner, but he refrained from further comment.

We drove until noontime, stopping at one of those large plazas on the highway for lunch. Chang and I changed clothes in a restroom, and we purchased meals to go so we could eat at a picnic table outside and then get right back to driving.

By the time we stopped for supper, a steady rain had moved in, making travel a bit slower, and promising to drag out the final leg of our journey. So we chose a small, family-style restaurant, figuring we deserved a decent meal and some down-time from eating on the run.

With his braid stuffed down the back of a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap obscuring his chestnut head, Maxwell looked about as nondescript as he was going to get. And while I wasn't concerned about the possibility of imminent detection, I was a bit worried about how quiet he'd gotten during the afternoon hours.

We'd settled into a booth and ordered coffee and meals before I felt compelled to comment on his silence.

"Duo?"

"Hm?" he glanced rather distractedly at me.

"Are you all right? The shoulder an' all?"

Indigo eyes blinked owlishly at me. "Sure. Fine. Why?"

"You're—quiet," I pointed out.

"That's putting it mildly," Chang added. "C'mon, Maxwell, spit it out. What's eating at you? You're never this quiet unless something's on your mind."

"I'm just wondering if Quat and Trowa are okay," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly in a poor attempt to conceal his deep concern for them.

"There's no reason to believe otherwise," Wufei said soothingly.

Duo gave a derisive snort. "Y'mean with all those SUVs and men with guns there's no reason to think they might not have gotten away easier than we did? Right."

"But we _got _away," I pointed out. "And I believe they did as well."

"Not like we'd know if they didn't," he muttered unhappily.

I sighed, wanting to reach across the table and touch him—reassure him. But this was no place for a public display, and I didn't think anything short of hearing Quatre's voice would help.

"We can try Winner's cell phone," I offered.

He gave me a haunted look. "And what if there's no answer?"

Oh. He had a point. If no one answered the cell phone, it could mean they were in a place without service, that the phone had been lost or shut off, or that they were unable to pick up.

I frowned, momentarily defeated, and then looked up at him with a small smile. "What if there is?"

He drew a sharp breath, obviously mulling over the possibilities. "Is it safe to call from _your_ cell?" he asked. "I mean, it won't lead anyone to us—or them—will it?"

"I wouldn't call from mine," I told him. "There's still a disposable one in my luggage, with an untraceable number."

"Yeah—but suppose the Feds had Quat's phone? Couldn't they trace your call?"

"Do you know how long it takes to triangulate on a cell phone signal?"

He shrugged.

"It takes several minutes," Wufei told him confidently, while darting me a worried look. "Unless they've improved the technology. But that's still not much time."

"It's enough. We'll keep it short," I replied. "If there's no answer, all it proves is that Winner's phone is turned off or out of range—it won't mean they're in trouble."

At that Duo mustered a weak smile and a nod.

I exchanged a look with Chang. "Shall we take a chance?"

"It's worth it if we gain peace of mind," Wufei answered.

I ducked out to the car and returned with my disposable cell phone. And as my two companions waited tensely, I dialed Winner's number, hoping for Duo's sake that he'd pick up and tell us he and Barton were safe, sound, and holed up in a cozy motel room somewhere.

Instead I got a recording. "You have reached the voice mail of Quatre Winner…at the tone…"

I looked up at Duo, whose expression darkened as he interpreted mine. "'Ro?" he asked in a small voice.

"It's gone to voice mail," I told him. "That means he's shut it off. Nothing more."

"It also means he's in range to receive a call," Wufei pointed out. "Which he should be, if he and Barton are trying to meet us at the next safe house."

I glared at the phone in frustration. "I don't dare leave a message, though, in case…"

_In case he'd dropped it while fleeing…in case the enemy had killed him and taken it…in case…_

There was just no point in letting anyone who might acquire that phone hear my voice and know I was within range.

"Hey, Tro' an' I had a code worked out—y'know—for if we were running late to work, or to meet up somewhere," Duo told me, brightening just a bit. "Hit the button to leave a callback number."

"Are you sure he'll know it's you?"

A perfectly lascivious grin lit his face. "He'll know. Punch in 694-3837."

"Whose number is that?" I questioned, even as I followed his instructions.

"His and mine," he smirked. "69 4-ever, Yuy. Get it?"

I felt the all too familiar rush of blood to my face—and other parts of my anatomy. "Jesus, Maxwell!"

He gave an unrepentant shrug. "He'll know who it's from, and that will be enough to let him know we're okay."

"Plus," Chang spoke up from across the table, his face probably mirroring the color of my own, "if anyone sees it on his caller i.d. they'll be looking for a fictitious number. There's no way it could be linked to Maxwell at all." He gave my lover a rather scolding look. "At least not by someone who didn't know his—habits."

Duo leaned back in his chair, his previously subdued attitude conspicuously absent. "Yeah, it can be habit-forming all right," he smirked.

I swallowed hard, grabbing my glass of water and taking a quick drink to cover how completely flustered I was. But visions of being in such an enjoyable position with Duo flashed tantalizingly across my mind.

He chuckled under his breath, and I heard a deep sigh, as apparently his mind headed in the same direction.

Fortunately our waitress chose that moment to arrive with the coffee pot to refill our cups and tell us it would only be a few minutes until our meals were up. The interruption allowed the thread of the too-explicit conversation to slip away. And when she left, Chang was all business—perhaps doing his own part to change the subject.

"Well, at least we know Winner's phone is functional."

The shadow of worry returned to Duo's eyes. "That doesn't tell us who has it, though," he pointed out.

"Yes, but regardless of that," I pointed out. "If Trowa and Quatre check their messages, they'll know you're okay."

He nodded, obviously realizing that was as good as it was going to get for the time being. "Thanks for trying."

Our food arrived soon after, and we enjoyed a pleasant respite from our journey, with hot meals, fresh rolls, and even apple pie for dessert. As good as it was, I couldn't help thinking Duo's cooking was better, and I resolved to tell him so the first chance I got.

But once we hit the road again after eating, he curled up amid the duffel bags in the back seat and promptly dozed off to the patter of rain on the roof of the car and the steady purr of the engine.

* * *

I think I fell asleep not long after Duo, waking some time later when Chang stopped for gas.

"Where're we?" I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"East Bumfuck," Duo chirped from the back seat, looking a lot more awake than I felt.

"Ah." I stretched, watching as my partner ducked under the overhang above the pumps and made a quick dash through the rain to the building to pay for our fuel. "So we're almost to Timbuktu?"

Duo leaned over the back of the seat, running a hand through my hair and leaning in for a kiss. "I'd follow you anywhere, Yuy."

"Now who's the sucker?"

He searched my face with his eyes, giving me that long, smoldering look that made my blood heat up and my pulse flutter. "Guess I am," he admitted in a husky voice. "A sucker for you."

But he couldn't remain serious for long, and that typical impish look crossed his face. "Speaking of sucking—. Remember last time we were in a position like this? Only I was handcuffed. An' I offered to kiss you an' lick you…suck you an'…"

"I remember!" I said quickly, recalling all too well the first time he'd seriously hit on me.

He chuckled warmly. "Never thought I'd get to do it though." As his eyes caressed my face, his fingers slid over my jaw and he ran a thumb across my lips. "I'd like to do it again," he added before leaning in for a longer, deeper kiss.

"Me too," I assured him breathlessly as our lips parted. "I'd like a demonstration of that phone number you and Trowa use."

"Hell yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "Y'think when we get to the next hideout we can ditch Chang for a few hours?"

"I think," I said pensively, "that he might even ditch _us_. Possibly on purpose."

"He'd seriously turn a blind eye to you fucking a witness?" came the skeptical response.

"He knows there's a bit more to it than that," I pointed out. "And if he wasn't there, it wouldn't exactly be turning a blind eye, now would it?"

Duo looked past me, and I sighed, realizing Chang must be on his way back. In a rare show of discretion, Maxwell pulled away from me and stretched back out amid the duffel bags.

Chang slipped back into the driver's seat, holding out a little cardboard tray with three coffees steaming in their styrofoam cups. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Yuy," he said, wiping droplets from his face with a sleeve.

"Thanks." I took a cup and passed one to Maxwell. "Want me to drive?"

"I'm good for another hour or two."

I nodded, sipping the black coffee, appreciating the boost it would give me. "By then the caffeine should reach my bloodstream."

He smiled back. "I'm counting on it."

We continued in shifts like that—I took over at midnight, driving through the predawn hours and the lessening rainfall. And by the time I found a rest stop for breakfast, the sun was rising and the air had a salty tang to it.

"What's that smell?" Duo asked, stretching languidly over the duffel bags as I nudged Chang awake.

"The ocean."

"Seriously?" Maxwell sat up sharply, looking around us. "I don't see any ocean."

"It's a couple of miles to the coast," I told him. "But you can smell it on the air long before you'll see it."

Wufei yawned and brushed my hand off his shoulder. "'M awake," he muttered, sitting up.

"I'll get to see it though, right?" Duo asked.

"According to Barton, the circus property is right on the water," I told him.

"Yessss!" he declared triumphantly. "One more thing I can check off my 'things to do before I die' list."

I turned sharply, my mouth open to protest that he damn well wasn't going to die—not on _my_ watch.

But my partner gave a wry chuckle, cutting into my thoughts. "What else is on that list, Maxwell? You've already seen a sunrise in the mountains, fondled a llama, been within a few feet of a wild bear, learned to swim…"

…_been fucked by a cop…repeatedly…_

I kind of hoped Chang still thought Duo and I hadn't consummated the relationship. I mean, all he'd noticed was the mutual attraction between us. He'd said nothing about knowing to what extent we'd acted on that attraction—though the fact that we'd shared a room and spent an entire day alone should have clued him in.

"…fallen for a cop…" Chang added, giving Duo an appraising look, almost as if he wanted some sort of admission from the braided man.

Duo merely smiled smugly. "I'm just makin' up for lost time."

"Well then," I cut in quickly, before Maxwell might be tempted to tell Chang a few more things he'd done recently—including stealing a cop's gun, and heart, "how about we get a decent breakfast in us, so you'll have plenty of energy for sightseeing during the drive today?"

"Excellent plan," agreed my partner.

We all freshened up in yet _another _public restroom—changing clothes in a toilet stall—and then we had a large enough breakfast to hold us through several more hours of travel.

I let Duo drive for a couple of hours, to keep him occupied for part of the morning, and after our lunchtime pit stop, he slid into the passenger seat, leaving Chang to find space among the luggage while I drove for the final leg of the journey.

I almost wished I'd made Duo keep driving when he got progressively antsier about seeing the ocean. The route we were traveling paralleled the coast without really bringing us _to _it, and it wasn't until my partner called him a juvenile brat for refusing to let the subject go, that Maxwell subsided into a sulking pout.

Frankly, the silence when they both fell asleep was rather soothing. I was almost reluctant to wake them when I caught the first glimpse of sparkling sea water as we turned onto the dirt road leading up to the circus property.

The road was well-maintained, in spite of being dirt and gravel, and it wound along a rocky, windswept hill overlooking the vast expanse of water.

"Maxwell—." I reached across and shook him by the shoulder, trying to do it while keeping my eyes on the road.

"Huh? What?"

"Wake up. There's something you need to see."

He pushed upright, rubbing his eyes, even as Chang also woke up and looked around rather blearily.

If I'd thought Duo was impressed by a sunrise in the mountains, or the view of the lake from our last safe house, that was nothing compared to the utter astonishment and awe on his face when he saw the ocean.

"Whoa," he breathed, hurriedly rolling down the window and practically hanging out it to get a better look. "_That's _the ocean?" He looked over at me with wide eyes. "It's—huge."

Wufei snorted his amusement. "Maxwell—you are singularly easy to impress sometimes."

Our witness turned a glare on my partner. "Look, Chang—you _know _where I'm from. D'you honestly think I ever in my life got the chance to see something like this?"

The look he got in return contained a fair amount of pity, and I was a bit surprised he didn't get pissed about that.

"I would have expected Merquise to indulge you a bit more," Wufei said rather sadly. "Weren't you two in love? And didn't he have access to limos and jets and all the most expensive and exotic places?"

Duo looked back out the window, shrugging slightly. "Zechs was a busy man," he admitted. "And I had a full-time job. It's not like he could just whisk me away for a couple of weeks in the Caribbean y'know."

"How long were you dating?"

Duo turned in his seat, scowling a bit. "What's it to you?" he asked defensively.

"I just wonder how serious you really were. That's all."

The indigo eyes narrowed warily. "Wondering if I'm just messing with your partner? Is that it? You don't think someone like me knows what real emotion is, do you?"

Wufei shook his head. "That's not it at all," he insisted. "I've seen how much emotion you're capable of, Maxwell. I just wonder about Merquise. Was _he _capable of loving someone?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Duo retorted. "You never met him; you never _knew _him. And yeah, he knew how to love someone—he knew how to love _me_." Duo folded his arms on the edge of the door, leaning his chin on them and looking out at the sunlight dancing across the waves. "You should just shut up about things you know nothing about, Chang."

"What makes you think I don't know anything about love?" growled my partner, his own hackles starting to rise.

"Because you're a stiff-necked, stubborn fuck, who wouldn't know _how _to sweep someone off their feet even if you could pull the stick out of your ass long enough to try." Duo lifted his chin and turned a snide look on the hapless man in the back seat. "Bet you're still a virgin," he taunted.

"We already established that I'm not—back at the lake house," Wufei shot back, reminding him of one of their previous verbal sparring sessions.

"Oh yeah…" Duo's irritability dissolved into curiosity. "So, who'd you lose it to, hm? High school sweetheart? Some pretty little Chinese girl?"

Fuck! Maxwell had no idea the topic he was treading on.

Wufei's face flushed a deep red, and if I hadn't been driving, I'd have closed my eyes and groaned at the storm I glimpsed brewing in the dark eyes. I hurriedly turned into the driveway leading to the farmhouse and barns, hoping to get there before my two companions blew up at one another.

Yes, they'd been getting along better, but then, two days stuck in close quarters was enough to try anyone's patience. Plus they'd both just woken up, stiff from hours in a moving car, and probably hungry for supper by this time.

"Who I lost my virginity to is none of your goddamned business, Maxwell," Wufei said icily. "And who'd you lose _yours _to? Or don't you know?"

"Chang!" I snarled, seeing the color drain from my lover's face as the significance of the question sank in. "Jesus fucking _Christ_, Chang!"

Wufei caught himself at once, his own face paling, as he recalled what had happened to Duo as a child. "I—I'm sorry Maxwell. That was uncalled-for."

We were pulling into the yard by the farmhouse, and Duo didn't even wait for the car to stop before he threw open the door and got out, stalking quickly away towards the rocky shoreline.

My partner started to open the door to go after him, but I threw the vehicle into park and reached around to catch his wrist. "Let him go," I said sternly. "There's nothing you can say right now."

"I—he just pushed all the right buttons," came the apologetic reply. "I thought of Meilan, and how if she hadn't—that we might've—." He shook his head miserably. "I lashed out at him with the only thing I knew would sting enough to pay him back for making me think of her."

"He doesn't fucking _know _about her," I reminded him. "So making you think of her wasn't deliberate. What you did was!"

"I wasn't thinking about the molestation—just his promiscuity. And I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry."

I sighed, turning off the car and opening my door. "I'll tell him that. You go on up to the house and see if Catherine's here, and let her know we've arrived."

He nodded, still looking miserable about what he'd done, and I got out and headed down the rocky slope towards the beach.

Duo was standing on the shore, his arms wrapped around himself, staring out at the waves. The wind was strong enough off the water to blow his hair back from his face and make him shiver slightly against the chill.

I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him against me for warmth as much as for comfort. Then I nuzzled my face into the side of his neck, kissing the spot just under his ear that made him shiver for entirely different reasons.

"Are you okay?" I asked simply.

He shrugged a little, and shook his head.

"Chang was out of line," I told him. "He had no right to remind you of—."

He nodded to show he knew what I was talking about. "Guy knows how to take a cheap shot, doesn't he?"

"Unfortunately." I rubbed soothingly on his arms. "If it's any consolation, he was trying to take a shot at your morals—not bring up bad memories."

That got an almost amused snort. "Don't see why he got so pissy about being called a virgin—you'd think he'd have taken it as a compliment."

"He has—issues," I said vaguely.

"What kind of issues?" came the grumbled reply. "What'd he do—lose his virginity to gay guy or something? He hates me because I'm gay, and he hates me because I ran with a gang—and he's uncomfortable as hell with sexuality of _any _kind. What the fuck is his problem?"

"He'll have to tell you that himself," I explained. "It's not my place to share his secrets." _But he does have them._

Duo nodded his understanding of what I'd left unspoken. He'd have to ask Chang directly if he ever wanted to know the answers. And he'd have to hope Chang was willing or ready to give them.

"Why'd he have to bring up Zechs, anyway?" he asked quietly. "Does he not know how much it still hurts to talk about him? And it's like he wants me to hate him."

"He probably does," I said gently. "Merquise was a criminal, and Chang can't see beyond that."

"What about you?"

"I saw beyond it when that stupid web site was up and running. There were pictures of you and Merquise, and the way he looked at you in some of them—it was obvious to me that he cared." I tightened my grip around Duo. "If he genuinely cared about you, he couldn't have been all bad," I assured him.

He relaxed slightly, leaning back into me and turning his face towards mine. "He wasn't," he said in a whisper. "He was no saint—but when we were alone, he was funny, and warm, and—caring. An' I might not have liked the public image he projected, or the fact that his work and his organization always seemed to come first—but I knew they were part of the package. So what if we never got to go away for the romantic vacation he always talked about? At least he wanted to. And he really _was _trying to find a way out of Oz. He wanted a more peaceful life—and he wanted it with _me_."

I had to force myself not to let the pang of jealousy I felt at those words overwhelm me. Duo didn't need me to be envious of a dead rival for his affections. But I was.

On the other hand, who could blame Merquise for wanting Maxwell? He was gorgeous, full of life, intelligent, and challenging. What was not to love?

More importantly, he was in _my _arms—not Zechs'. And I wanted to remind him of that without letting my jealousy show.

I once again rubbed my cheek against his, delighting in the skin to skin contact. "And what did _you_ want?" I asked him gently. "Did you want to run off and live happily ever after with Merquise on a sandy beach somewhere?"

"I wanted—more," Duo shrugged. "The club scene was starting to wear thin, and I was starting to want more out of life than working nights, partying, and sleeping my days away. And when Zechs came along and took me to fancy restaurants and elegant clubs, it was a nice change." He glanced sideways at me. "When he talked about leaving and starting a new life, that looked like an even better change, y'know?"

"You'll get your new life," I pointed out, thinking of how empty it would leave mine.

"Ironic, huh? He had to die for that to happen," sighed Duo. He turned in my arms so he could wrap his around me. "An' now I'm not sure it's enough."

"Don't—."

"I don't want a new life if you're not in it," he said earnestly, his indigo eyes searching mine. "Come with me."

"I told you," I said stiffly. "They won't let me."

"Don't ask them. Just do it."

I shook my head helplessly. "Duo—right now all that matters is keeping you alive. If we can do that, and if you can testify, then maybe there'll be some kind of future to consider."

"And if I get blown away by the next assassin Khushrenada sends out, it won't matter anyway—is that it?"

"No," I said hotly. "I'm not letting anything happen to you, Maxwell! And if it does, it'll happen to me, too."

"Then if I get relocated, why can't _that _happen to you, too?"

"I just—don't know," I sighed. "Please can we not talk about this right now?"

"Yeah," he said, heaving a sigh of his own. "I'll try to stick with living in the moment," he offered. "If this is all I get, well, I guess I'm glad I got you for my watchdog. I got to see those pretty eyes of yours look at me in a whole new way, an' that's worth everything to me."

I couldn't imagine why earning my respect had mattered so much to him. Was it like he said—he'd fallen for me at first sight? It kind of made me sorry I'd been such a prick to him when I first arrested him. We wasted so much time bickering and fighting—time that would have been better spent getting to know each other.

I tightened my grip a little, putting my lips to his ear. "C'mon inside with me," I urged. "You can introduce Chang and me to Trowa's friend Catherine, and we can have supper and relax. I want to just—sit and talk for a change."

"Talk? About what?" He turned a slightly quizzical look my way.

"You," I said with a smile. "I want you to tell me about yourself. We've slept together, and I don't even know your favorite color, or food, or if you know how to play checkers or chess, or _anything_. And I want to know it all."

"You do?"

"Absolutely."

"Does that mean you'll tell me about Heero Yuy—where he grew up, and went to school, and how he decided to become a cop—shit like that?"

I nodded.

"Deal," he agreed swiftly, turning in my arms to face me.

I took the opportunity for a soft, lingering kiss, hoping it conveyed the message that if we ever got time alone again, I wouldn't stop at a mere kiss.


	40. New Digs

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, mention of long-past NCS, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2)

A/N: Sorry for the long delay…illness, work, and family issues have beaten me down lately. I hope to have some of them resolved soon and get back on track.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty: New Digs

We walked up to the house more or less arm in arm, and when we got there, Duo gave a cursory knock before throwing the door open. "Hey, Cathy! Got any lion chow? The 'big cats' are hungry!"

Chang and a girl with reddish hair and a pair of crutches were talking in the living room, and turned at our arrival.

"Duo!" she squealed in delight. "Trowa said you'd be coming! I'm so glad." She hobbled over and gave him a brief hug before pulling back to look him over. "You look beat."

He smiled wanly. "Exhausted. Swear t'God after this I'm never taking a road trip again!" His gaze ran down to the cast on her leg. "Still—I'm in better shape than you, I guess."

"Oh this?" She leaned to casually rap her knuckles against the plaster. "Naw—it comes off in a few days. Meanwhile, I mostly use the crutches for balance."

"And to fend off the lions while you feed 'em?" he teased.

"No lions here yet," she told him. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"No—that's good," he said, sounding only vaguely disappointed. "Much as I like having the big cats around, if any were here, it'd mean they were hurt or sick, wouldn't it?"

"Yes it would."

"Then I'm glad they're not."

Catherine grinned, and then her gaze slid past him to me, and her eyes lit up. "Oh—and _you_ are—?" she asked, holding out a hand.

"Mine!" Duo said quickly, sharply.

"Heero Yuy," I said graciously, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake.

She chuckled, leaning in close to Duo to whisper in his ear. "Does that mean the Oriental Adonis behind us is up for grabs?" she asked.

Duo grinned evilly over her head at Wufei, while keeping his voice low. "Grab away, darling," he urged.

I couldn't help smiling at the mischievous exchange between the two. And when Catherine turned around to face Wufei, I felt a small twinge of pity for him. Very small.

When I recalled his recent laments about girls going after the gay guys, I decided he truly deserved this woman's attentions, whether he wanted them or not.

"So, Mister Chang," she said hobbling over, and taking his arm in a companionable gesture. "Would you like to help me make some tea, while you tell me all about your trip up here?"

"I—." He glanced rather helplessly at me, and then down at her appealing gaze, and the slight softening of his features suggested he wouldn't mind her attentions at all. "I'd be delighted. And please, call me Wufei?"

"Oh—Wufei then," she said cheerily. "As long as you'll call me Cathy."

They sauntered into the kitchen, with Chang rather solicitously assisting the injured girl, and Duo turned a wide-eyed look on me. "Y'think?" he asked ambiguously.

"Possibly," I replied, equally vague.

"Sure would be nice," he mused. "Might take his attention off us. Give us a little more room to—explore the possibilities."

I slid an arm around his waist, letting myself think of all the possibilities we hadn't yet explored fully. I mean, shit—we'd had sex—several times. But I had yet to return the favor of that blow job he'd "forced" on me at gunpoint. And then there was that whole sixty-nine thing…and we won't even go into all the potential positions and variations we had yet to try.

"Thinkin' about it, aren't ya?" he teased in a husky voice.

"Hell yes."

He gave me a sly look. "Maybe I should call 'top' right now—avoid the rush." The sparkle in the indigo eyes became positively wicked. "Or we could arm-wrestle for it."

"Or you could just ask."

His eyes went wide at that, as if he hadn't thought I'd even consider the switch.

"Yuy—Maxwell—you could be bringing in the luggage!" Wufei called from the kitchen.

"Spoilsport," muttered my lover, reluctantly pulling away. "Sure, Wuffers—we'll put it in the _bedroom_! Take your time makin' that tea!"

He caught my hand and pulled me after him.

"Duo, we can't—."

"I know. I know," he said impatiently. "I don't even know what rooms Cathy will put us in, or where they are. It's not like I've been here before either. Only heard about it from Trowa." He gave a wicked smirk. "Just wanted to rattle Wuffers a bit."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

I got a snort in reply. "Shit, Yuy—he's still probably feeling bad enough about upsetting me that he'll let me get away with murder for a few hours."

We ended up piling the duffel bags in the hallway and joining Catherine and Wufei at the dining room table, where they'd set up tea for all of us. The smell of something cooking in the oven filled the room, which I took to mean supper would soon be ready.

We slid into our seats, and Duo immediately grabbed the honey, liberally spooning it into his tea. I found myself grinning as I remembered Trowa's comment about Duo getting him hooked on the sweet stuff. That earned me a raised eyebrow from my lover, and then a wicked smirk as he slowly licked the excess off his spoon. And, yes, I found myself imagining his tongue working me and had to close my eyes. I knew he was thinking about the same thing.

After he finished sexually assaulting his spoon, he turned a curious look to Catherine. "So what the heck happened to your leg?" he asked her, stirring his drink and then taking a cautious sip, smacking his lips happily at the level of sweetness.

"Oh—a little fall," she said with a shrug. "I was practicing some bareback riding."

Duo choked on his tea, bursting into delighted laughter.

"Duo!" Catherine scolded, blushing brightly. "On a _horse_!"

I smacked him on the back helpfully. "Mind out of the gutter, Maxwell." Now if I could only keep mine on the high road as well…

"Can't help it!" he blurted. "That was just too perfect a setup."

"You knew what I meant," grumbled the girl, her hand brushing Wufei's as she reached for the sugar, which only made her blush harder.

"Of course he knew what you meant," Chang said, giving Duo a narrow look. "He just chose to misinterpret." He gave her a sympathetic glance. "He can't help himself—it's in his nature, I'm afraid."

"At least my nature's not uptight and—."

"Duo!" I admonished sharply.

"Proper," Duo amended quickly. "Yep—Chang's nothing if not proper."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Catherine assured him, smiling warmly at my partner.

He smiled back.

He _smiled _back.

And Duo, who never missed a trick, gave me a perfectly smug look.

"So—anyway," Catherine continued, tearing her attention away from Wufei for a moment. "What brings you way out here?"

"Uh, Catherine," I said carefully. "Exactly what did Trowa tell you about the three of us coming to visit?" I wanted to establish right up front whether or not she knew about Duo's protected status.

"Well—he said Duo might stop by here with a couple of friends, and could I make sure to have some rooms ready. He said he wasn't sure if you'd make it or for how long, but that you might need a place to hang out for awhile. Why?"

"No reason, Cath," Duo said easily, darting me a warning look. "Just—I might've left a few pissed off bill collectors behind, and it'd be nice if you didn't tell anyone we were here."

Her pretty blue-grey eyes narrowed a bit suspiciously. "Bill collectors?"

He smiled and ducked his head sheepishly. "You know me—always pissing _someone_ off."

"Yes, but it's usually the cops," she smirked, relaxing a bit. But her gaze picked at Duo's carefully casual front. "Tell me no one's going to show up with a warrant, please."

"I can assure you, no one will," Chang said quickly, smoothly. "You have my word on that."

"Good." She nodded, apparently satisfied.

When the timer for dinner began beeping, she got quickly to her feet, grabbing for her crutches, and Wufei hastily offered to help bring out the casserole.

I might have gone with them, but I wanted a moment with Duo. Making sure they were out of earshot, I leaned a bit closer to him. "She doesn't know about you and Merquise?" I asked, thinking it odd she'd made no mention of his dead lover.

He shook his head. "I've only met her at the circus a few times—always with Trowa. She doesn't know anything about my personal life, except that I worked at the same club with him and we shacked up for awhile and are still—close." He looked a bit defensively at me. "I told you, Zechs kept our relationship very low key. The only ones who knew about us were folks at Sanc and The Jungle. Beyond that…maybe a couple of waiters at some of the places we ate."

"You forgot the rumor mill," I pointed out. "Word was out on the street that he was dating a stripper from one of his clubs."

"Yeah, but that's not the kind of news that would filter back to Catherine. Her world—the circus world—is so far removed that they'd never hear that kind of rumor, or give a shit about it if they did."

Well that made sense. "So, as far as she knows, you're here to lay low from some bill collectors or something?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "Don't overanalyze it, 'Ro. Cathy's good people. She didn't like me much at first, when Tro' and I hooked up—thought I was a bad influence." He gave a wry smile. "She was right. But when I cleaned up my act and stopped the drugs and shit, she kind of got used to having me around whenever the circus hit town."

I frowned, not liking the thought of Duo having been into hard drugs and the lifestyle that implied.

"That was a long time ago," he assured me, a hand coming to rest on top of one of mine.

"What kind of drugs?" I couldn't help asking.

He leaned back in his seat, tilting his face towards the ceiling and sighing deeply. "What difference does it make? It's old news."

"I just—want to know," I said with a pained scowl. "I can't understand what would drive someone to do that to their body."

He let out a frustrated breath. "Jesus, 'Ro—couldn't this wait until after we eat?" The indigo eyes came to rest on mine. "After the Reapers were killed, I wasn't real stable, okay? I tried to forget. I tried alcohol…sex…and yeah, drugs."

"And did any of it help?"

"Sometimes. At least temporarily." He shrugged a lean shoulder. "When I was high, I didn't think about Solo—about the rest of the guys—about how fuckin' alone I was in the goddamned world. Okay?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a less than steady hand. "Do you really need to pick me apart like this?"

"I—I don't mean to," I said, my voice husky. "But I love you, Duo—and thinking of you risking your life on that shit—it just tears me to pieces."

"I don't _do _that any more," he reiterated.

"Will you promise me never to do it again?" I asked quietly, thinking of him off in relocation by himself, without even Trowa to lean on for friendship and support.

He blinked, fixing me with an almost disbelieving look.

"Seriously," I added. "You said it made you forget how alone you were. What happens if you end up alone again? Will you try to escape the loneliness the same way?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Wufei came back in, carrying a pyrex dish with a bubbling casserole in it. "Maxwell, can you clear a spot?"

Duo quickly moved the centerpiece off the hot plate in the center of the table so my partner could set down the simmering dish, which instantly filled the room with a savory scent that made my mouth water.

"God that smells fuckin' great!" Duo said enthusiastically, no doubt thinking of the snack bars and fast food we'd been surviving on once again.

"There is a lady present, Maxwell," Wufei reminded him, glancing back as Catherine hobbled out of the kitchen on her crutches, with a bottle of milk precariously dangling from one finger, and a basket of hot rolls from the other.

"Here. Let me," I said quickly, jumping up to relieve her of the containers before they could slip.

"Thanks."

Wufei was scowling at Duo, albeit a bit wearily. "If there is any part of Heero I wish would rub off on you, it would be his manners," he commented, arranging the food in the middle of the table as I passed it to him. "That, and his limited use of curse words."

"She's heard me say way worse," Duo shrugged, reaching for a steaming roll.

Chang slapped his hand away. "I'll do the serving!" he admonished.

Duo subsided into a rather sulky silence, while Catherine took the seat opposite me, ending up between Duo and Wufei at the small, square table. "So—how do you three know each other?" she asked brightly, as my partner began filling glasses and dishing out the supper. "Do you all work at the same nightclub?"

I thought Chang would have heart failure. Apparently, Catherine thought he was a male stripper.

"I most _certainly_ do not!" he said icily. "Do I _look _like a stripper?"

Catherine's eyes widened. "Oh—no! I didn't mean it like that! Not that you were a—that you—." She subsided into tongue-tied silence, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Shit, Chang, lighten up," Duo chided. "Y'know there're plenty of bartenders and bouncers at The Jungle and Sanc—for all she knew you guys could've been bodyguards or something." He gave Catherine a reassuring smile. "Don't mind 'Fei-kins," he said sweetly, in a manner I thought might be calculated to deflect my partner's outrage from the girl to him. "Like I said, he's so damned proper that he'd probably starve to death before he'd stoop to taking off his clothes for money." His indigo eyes darted a challenge at Wufei. "Right?"

"I suppose I would," came the rather subdued admission.

"Not very practical," Duo added. "But virtuous as all Hell."

Catherine managed an uncomfortable smile. "I didn't mean to insult you," she assured Wufei.

"Of course not," he replied, his manner softening. "And forgive my overreaction. It's just, in my culture there are certain things you don't _do_…not at any price."

"Yeah, well—in _my _culture, starving to death is at the top of the list of things not to do," pointed out our witness, helping himself to a forkful of supper as if to illustrate his point. "But hotshot cops apparently never have to stoop—." He stopped short, realizing he'd given out more information than might be wise.

"Cops?" Catherine echoed, darting a worried look at Duo.

"Uhhhhmm…" Duo's glib humor seemed to have deserted him, so I decided I'd have to be the quick thinker this time around.

"Actually," I spoke up quickly. "We are," I admitted, figuring that if I used a partial truth I'd stand a better chance of making it into a convincing lie. "Chang and I are cops…and we met Duo during this really messed-up sting operation. It was sort of a case of mistaken identity, and when we arrested him and it all got sorted out, well, I felt kind of bad about it and invited him to dinner to make it up to him." I shrugged, hoping she bought the vague scenario. "We ended up—dating. And when Chang and I decided to take a camping vacation, I wanted to bring Duo along to see some sights he's never had the chance to before."

She cocked an eyebrow skeptically, though her attention seemed to center on Duo. "Why do I get the feeling you're pulling a fast one on me, Maxwell?" she asked in a deadly tone.

He glanced helplessly at me, giving a slight shake of his head, and I looked at Wufei, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Should we—tell her?"

My partner frowned deeply, and then gave a curt nod. "It's only fair, Yuy. In view of the potential danger, we'd be remiss in keeping her in the dark."

And they said chivalry was dead.

"Besides," he added with a narrow look at me. "You made it sound like the three of us were in a—relationship of some sort. I'd like to set the record straight on that right here and now." He gave Catherine a reassuring smile. "I'm not gay, in spite of being stuck traveling with these two."

Her eyes widened a bit, losing the suspicious glare they'd been directing at Duo.

"Miss Bloom," Wufei said carefully and precisely. "The truth of the matter is that Duo witnessed a crime—a very, very serious one. Detective Yuy and I have been assigned to hide him and keep him safe until the trial—at which point he'll be needed to testify, before being placed in witness relocation."

The stunned look she gave us would have been comical, if not for the way it morphed into a horror-stricken expression and the color drained from her face. "Jesus, Duo—you're the one on the news! The one who's supposed to testify against Treize Khushrenada! Aren't you?"

He nodded and the next thing I knew, she was out of her chair with her arms wrapped around him. "Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded. "Why didn't Trowa? God, Duo—there have been headlines—newscasts—. They said the FBI is looking for you!"

"The FBI?" Chang and I asked in unison.

She nodded earnestly, even as Duo was trying to extricate himself from her too-tight embrace. "There was a story on yesterday about the case, and how there was a witness in hiding, and the FBI was demanding that the police produce whoever it was for them to interview. A Captain Po was saying they had no jurisdiction, and that the Merquise murder was her precinct's case."

"Shit," Duo muttered, looking worriedly at me. "Are they gonna make her turn me over to them?"

"They can't," I promised. "Chang and I are the only ones who know your whereabouts, and even if Captain Po could contact us to order us to bring you in, we wouldn't."

My lover looked over at my partner, who nodded reassuringly. "That's the honest truth, Maxwell. We won't let them near you as long as you're concerned about Khushrenada having agents in his hip pocket."

He breathed an audible sigh. "Thanks, 'Fei—Heero. Quat was right to tell me to trust you—both of you."

"What else did the newscast say?" I asked Catherine, hoping for information on the progress of the court case.

She shrugged slightly. "Just that they've got forensic evidence they say will corroborate the witness' testimony."

"Nothing about the FBI having their own witness?" Chang spoke up.

"What witness?" Duo asked, his attention suddenly riveted on my partner.

Oh—right. We hadn't gotten around to discussing Trant's place in the whole mess, with Duo.

"Apparently Une tried to take out Otto and Trant," I told him. "Trant managed to escape and run to the Feds."

"And did he finger Khushrenada for the murder?" came the almost breathless question.

"Yes—but our department has jurisdiction over the Merquise case, and the Feds won't share unless it's relinquished."

"Meaning?"

"We'd have to turn you over to the Feds to back up Trant's story," I told him.

"We won't do that," Wufei reiterated quickly, his tone almost fierce.

"Yeah, I know." Duo had more or less disentangled himself from Catherine, and he gave her a reassuring smile, looking her squarely in the eyes. "See, Cath? I've got the best bodyguards in the world, and they aren't gonna let anything happen to me."

She smiled back and nodded. "That's good."

"We will, however, require your silence in this matter," Wufei told her firmly. "Judging from your reaction to Duo's news, you care about his welfare. If that's the case, you can best help him, and us, by telling no one he's here—or that he _was _here after we leave."

"Why would you leave?" she asked with a puzzled expression. "This place is safe—for all three of you. No one ever comes out here this time of year. I drive into town three days a week to work at the vet clinic—or at least I will once I'm off these crutches. Other than that, no one comes or goes. It's the perfect hideout!"

"The last two places we stayed got shot to bits," Duo told her frankly, a frown creasing his forehead. "We still don't know how they found us—or if they'll find us again—or even _who _found us—except they weren't exactly the welcome wagon."

Catherine smiled wryly at his lame attempt at a joke, but it was easy to see the concern in her eyes. "I'm sorry about those places getting damaged. I'd hate to have that happen here…but are _you_ okay?" she asked Duo, searching his face. "That's the most important thing. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Just a scratch on my shoulder," he said glibly, putting on a brave front. "No biggie. But if Yuy or Chang thinks anyone might be coming here for us, we're not gonna stick around and take a chance on _you_ getting hurt." He tapped her lightly on the end of the nose with one teasing finger. "Trowa would never forgive me."

"Oh!" she said with suddenly wide eyes. "And he knows how to throw knives!"

"Almost as proficiently as you," Duo replied.

At Wufei's puzzled look, my braided lover smirked. "Cathy and Trowa did a knife-throwing act. Both of 'em are experts with a blade."

My partner looked intrigued. "Really?" he asked Catherine. "I practice with a katana at the martial arts dojo I frequent. Perhaps you could teach me a bit of _your _skill—?"

Duo winked boldly at Catherine. "Your skill—? What a pick-up line, eh?"

"It's not!" Chang protested hotly. "I'm genuinely interested in the art."

"And the girl," Duo suggested.

"Maxwell!"

Catherine moved back over to her own seat, blushing a little at the turn of the conversation. "Ignore him Wufei," she said soothingly, though I thought I saw a pleased gleam in her eyes. "He's just trying to get a rise out of you. I'd be happy to demonstrate some knife techniques."

Duo snorted, shaking his head as he returned to his briefly-forgotten meal. "Techniques?" he muttered under his breath. "Is that what you call it now?"

"Let it go, Duo," I suggested, resuming eating my own meal.

Honestly, if he kept tormenting Wufei, we'd _never_ get the Chinese man to go anywhere alone with Catherine—which would ensure Duo and I were never alone, either. Sometimes he could be incredibly dense.

"This is a delicious meal," I told Catherine, intent on turning the conversation to safer, more casual topics.

"He's right," Wufei chimed in, nodding earnestly. "It's the best meal we've had in days."

"Why, thank you," she beamed. "It's a pretty simple casserole really—just chicken, vegetables, and some cheese and cream sauce."

"Whatever it is, it's great together," Duo assured her. "Bet you can try all kinds of different combinations of vegetables in it, too, for variety."

She nodded. "If I'd been here sooner, I'd have had some fresh produce from the garden. But it was too late for planting by the time I arrived."

"Doesn't matter," Duo managed between mouthfuls. "With the crap we've had to eat since the last safe house—anything would be an improvement. And you should've seen the sleazebag hotel we spent the other night in!"

"No one should have to see that," I cut in, remembering the squalid conditions, as well as the way the dirty-minded clerk had looked at my lover. "But seriously, Catherine, this meal is a real treat for us. Maybe tomorrow, Duo can cook—he's pretty good at it."

"Really?" she asked, eyeing him curiously. "It might be nice to try someone else's cooking for a change."

"You're on!" he agreed eagerly. "I can make a sautéed beef mix that'll send your taste buds to Heaven and back."

I felt a rush of pride at his confidence in his cooking skills, and was immediately glad I'd made the suggestion.

We finished the rest of the meal in casual conversation, and then Duo and I headed out to do the dishes, while Wufei and Catherine settled our belongings in the rooms we'd be using. As it turned out, the place was a huge old farmhouse, with individual accommodations for each of us—a feature I found mildly disappointing. But then, having separate rooms didn't necessarily mean we had to _use _them, now did it?

* * *

By the time we finished the cleanup, Wufei and Catherine were in the living room, talking about the various types of steel used in knives and swords, and the relative merits of each.

"Want to take a walk?" I asked Duo, as he paused in the doorway of the kitchen, grimacing at their topic of conversation. "I'd like to set up what's left of my surveillance equipment out by the road, and maybe near the beach."

He turned with a grin and a glimmer in the indigo eyes. "You romantic fool," he teased. "Sure I'll take a walk with you, as long as it doesn't compromise your notions of keeping me safe."

I shrugged slightly. "As you and Chang observed, we're in this together. And you've proven yourself in more than one crisis. I think you'll be as safe out there setting up mini cams with me as you'd be anywhere right now."

His grin widened. "Can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than with you."

I fetched my remaining three cameras and a couple of motion sensors and told Chang where we'd be—and then Duo and I were out the door and making our way across the grassy, windswept ledge towards the shore.

The wind had picked up, and made talking a bit difficult; so I took Duo by the hand to express my feelings at sharing the moment. And after watching a lovely sunset, we hiked along in companionable silence, setting up the three cameras in record time. With a chill settling in as the sky darkened, even with my arm firmly wrapped around Duo's waist for warmth, we both found ourselves shivering a bit as we reached the house again. I, for one, was glad to get indoors, even if it did mean I had to let go.

"Wow—breezy out here, isn't it?" Duo asked, rubbing his arms as we locked up behind ourselves.

"There's often a prevailing wind off the ocean," I told him. "It's nice during the heat of the day—but if it doesn't die down at night, it can get a bit chilly."

"Warm me up?" he asked, turning suddenly and pressing against me, threading cold hands up through my hair.

I wrapped my arms back around him. "Much as I'd love to really heat you up," I murmured against his cheek. "We owe it to Chang to be discreet, you know."

"Yeah." He shivered a bit, relaxing in my arms. "But he's gotta sleep sometime."

I chuckled warmly. "We can only hope."

"Duo—is that you?" Catherine came plunking out of the kitchen on her crutches. "You just missed a call from Trowa."

Duo jerked away from me, turning towards her. "Trowa? He's okay?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. He said to tell you he got your message, and right back atcha," she smirked. Then she sobered a bit. "Seriously, he's fine, and so is his friend." She looked a bit put out. "He wouldn't say who was with him, though."

"Aw, a great guy," Duo said with a wide smile of pure relief. "I introduced them. And trust me—it's a perfect match. You know I wouldn't let just anyone steal my best friend's heart."

"Oh—it's serious?" she asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. In fact, I thought I caught a glimpse of jealousy in there, too.

"I think it will be," Duo told her noncommittally. "What else did Trowa say?"

"Just that he's glad you got here okay, and not to worry about them. They're in a safe place and plan to stay put for awhile."

I could just imagine them shacked up in yet another Winner estate, lounging in a hot tub and exploring their new-found passion. And I envied them that.

Duo turned back to me, his relief written all over his face. "They're in a safe place," he sighed.

I smiled in return. "That's very good news."

"And now that you two are back inside, are you up for a movie?" Catherine asked, gesturing over her shoulder. "Wufei made popcorn."

Now _that _was a treat. Wufei never initiated anything resembling relaxation, and it was too good an offer to pass up. Besides, if Duo and I slunk off to a quiet room together, it would be painfully obvious what our intentions were—and I knew Chang wouldn't be comfortable with that.

So I quickly hooked up the laptop and tapped into the mini cam system, setting it to automatic, and then we all gathered in the living room.

Duo had snagged the couch, and was stretched out like a lazy cat, but he patted the end near his head, inviting me to take a spot there so he could use me as his personal pillow. Needless to say, he didn't have to twist my arm.

Wufei handed me a bowl of popcorn, before helping Catherine into an overstuffed arm chair and stowing her crutches off to one side. He then pulled another chair close enough to hers that they could share their own bowl—the sly dog.

God, it seemed Duo was even rubbing off on my thoughts.

Of course thinking of him and "rubbing" in the same sentence was a bad idea—but judging from the way he snuggled his head into my lap, he appreciated my body's reaction to those thoughts.

We all spent a couple of hours watching some old movie which included martial arts that Chang scoffed at, escaped circus animals that Catherine found ridiculous, and lame excuses for cops and crooks that we all criticized mercilessly.

It was a lot of fun.

And with Duo sprawled over me the way he'd been on Trowa back at the lake house, I got the added enjoyment of being able to absently run my fingers through the chestnut bangs from time to time, as well as the tantalizing weight of his head against my crotch. It was a strange combination of comfort and arousal that made me feel curiously warm and complete…just as I'd felt when he introduced me to Catherine with the word "mine" uttered in such a vehement way.

I wanted to be his—always.

When the movie ended, seemingly all too soon, we switched the system back to regular television, and Wufei and Catherine headed off to their respective rooms to sleep, leaving Duo and me alone.

Duo was half-asleep, his eyes drooping lazily as I stroked the bangs back from his face and kissed his forehead. "Mm, alone at last," he murmured sleepily.

"Not really," I pointed out, glancing over my shoulder. "Wufei or Catherine could come strolling back in at any time."

"Wasn't suggesting sex," he told me, looking up mischievously. "You promised to tell me about yourself."

"So I did." I sighed, looking at the flickering television screen without really noticing what program had come on after the movie we'd been watching.

"Well?"

I've never been especially comfortable talking about myself—or even listening to others spill their personal histories or secrets. I'd managed to go through years of working with Chang without finding out about Meilan, which spoke of my complete avoidance of personal conversations.

Duo noticed my hesitation, and crawled up to straddle my lap facing me, his legs warm against my thighs. His eyes practically burned holes in mine as he placed a light, coaxing kiss on my lips, and draped his arms across my shoulders.

"C'mon, Yuy. You already know I'm an orphan and shit. It's your turn to tell all."

"I—thought we were going to start with favorite colors and foods—," I ventured a bit breathlessly.

"We'll get to that," he promised. "But first I wanna know where you came from—how you grew up and stuff." He looked appealingly at me. "Please?"

"Okay."

Who could resist those pleading indigo eyes—that desperate look? Not me—that's for sure.

"I—was born in Japan—or at least that's what I was told. My parents died when I was a few months old, and I was raised by a man named Odin Lowe. I'm not sure if he was related to my parents—he wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. Maybe that's where I learned to be so secretive."

Duo shifted on my lap, a worried crease on his forehead. "Sorry 'bout your folks," he said quietly. "Sucks to be an orphan."

"At least I had Odin," I replied with a shrug. "I never ended up in an orphanage…or on the streets."

He smiled wanly. "Good."

"Anyhow, when I was around ten or eleven, I figured out that my guardian's job was something—covert. He said he was in law enforcement—but I suspect he was either an operative for some agency, or—an assassin."

_That _brought a wide-eyed reaction from my lover. "No shit?"

"I never found out which it was," I admitted. "But I learned how to build and repair his surveillance devices, how to hack computers—a shitload of stuff no honest cop had reason to know how to do." I managed a wry smile. "Lucky I did—because one day he just didn't come back."

"What happened to him?" Duo asked.

"I don't know. My guess is that he died on the job."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

The indigo eyes narrowed a bit. "How'd you avoid being tossed into foster care by social services?"

A reluctant smile touched my lips. "I—was fairly adept at computer hacking by then. And Odin had left a stash of money that was more than enough to live on. All I needed was a parent to be responsible for me. So I 'created' one. The school system never caught on and found out I was living alone."

"That's not exactly legal," Duo pointed out rather tartly. "Why didn't you keep going once you got away with a crime like that? What the hell made you end up becoming a cop?"

"I got caught," I admitted.

"But you said the school system never—."

"It wasn't _them_," I explained. "When I was sixteen a detective who was almost as good with computers as I was, caught me tampering with some school records to make it appear that my 'dad' had attended a mandatory open house. He could've arrested me and even had me thrown into an orphanage. But instead he gave me a chance to help him solve a hacking case he'd been running into dead ends on. And in return for my cooperation, he didn't turn me in to social services. But he did keep tabs on me and make sure I finished school and kept out of trouble."

"So he was the role model for the big, bad Detective Yuy, eh?"

"I guess he was…in part."

"He still alive?"

"I don't know; I haven't talked to Jay in ages. Not since I went off to college and the police academy. We didn't really keep in touch."

"Not the sentimental type—either one of you, eh?"

"Odin taught me early on to avoid forming attachments." I ran my fingers down the side of his face, enjoying the feel of his skin under them. "I was doing pretty well at it until I met you."

His smile was warm, though his cheeks colored slightly. "Sorry," he apologized with obvious insincerity.

"I'm not," I assured him. "The past couple of weeks made me realize what I'd been missing out on. I wouldn't change a thing."

He looked away a bit uncomfortably, making an attempt at a scoffing noise that didn't quite ring true. "Me neither," he admitted gruffly.

"Now it's my turn," I said firmly. "How old were you when you ended up in the orphanage?"

He shrugged with studied nonchalance. "Dunno. First memories I have are of living in some alley…hiding out with some other kids behind a dumpster and scrounging food from trash cans. I don't know how old I was when they came along with some 'clean the streets' campaign and threw all us little kids into the orphanage."

"So you went to foster homes?"

"Yeah, a couple of families tried me on for size—didn't like the fit," he said with dry humor. "I was too uncouth or too rebellious—fuck—maybe I was just too wild—too much like a feral cat to be house trained."

"And what about—? How old were you when—?"

"Ah—the rape, y'mean?" he clarified for me, smoothing over my hesitation. "Nine or ten maybe. I'd been at the orphanage for at least four years by then."

"How'd it happen?" I asked quietly, afraid he'd back off and refuse to answer.

He was, indeed, silent for a long moment, and I thought I'd pushed too hard.

"I snuck out one night," he said in a hushed voice, as if afraid Wufei or Cathy might overhear. "Actually, lots of nights—but that time I'd just gotten rejected by another family—so I stayed out longer than usual. I was on my way back when—it happened."

"And was it a cop?" I pressed carefully, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips and willing him to keep talking.

He sighed deeply. "Two cops," he whispered, and I felt a cold fury settle in the pit of my stomach.

"T-two?" I managed a bit hoarsely, wondering why a kid who'd grown up on the streets would even go near police officers. So I asked him.

"Father and Sister always told us to trust men in uniforms," he said bitterly. "When they stopped me a few blocks away from the orphanage, I let 'em get too close." Again he tried that nonchalant shrug that didn't fool me for an instant. "They joked around for a bit, an' then dragged me into an alley, and—." His voice trailed off and his eyes darkened with remembered horror.

"I get the idea," I said, surprised at how ragged my voice sounded.

"Solo—came along then," he continued, pulling the memories from some dark corner I suspected he kept them bottled up in. "Took me with him and got me cleaned up. Took care of me for a few days. And then he made me go back to the orphanage." He gave a faint smile. "I wanted to stay with the Reapers in the worst way—but he said I was better off in the church orphanage, where at least I'd have a roof over my head and three square meals a day. He didn't want me living the kind of life he and the others did, if there was something better out there."

"Sounds like a smart guy," I said, belatedly grateful to the boy who'd looked after Duo at such a horrible time.

"I stayed for another year or so after that, and then when my latest foster dad backhanded me, I'd had enough—took off and found Solo and the gang again—told him it didn't matter if he wanted me there. I wasn't going back into the system just to be tossed into another abusive foster home. I told him I'd rather live behind the fuckin' dumpster I started at than go back again. So he let me stay."

I couldn't help but wonder at the inflection in Duo's voice when he mentioned the gang leader.

But before I could open my mouth to ask, I got a knowing look from the indigo eyes. "He was my first boyfriend," he admitted quietly. "Started out as hero-worship on my part, but then I totally fell for him."

I smirked and shook my head. "So, you always fall for guys who're out to save and protect you?"

He reached a hand to my face, letting his fingers trace adoringly over the curve of my cheek. "Naw—there's a lot more to it than that, Yuy. I don't need rescuing now like I did then. I mean, sure, Khushrenada's out to get me—and I'm genuinely grateful that you an' Chang have kept me alive this long—but the kind of rescuing I needed from you wasn't physical."

My breath caught in my throat at the intensity in his eyes. "Then, what was it?"

"I guess—maybe I needed a little rescuing from myself," he said quietly. "When you guys caught up to me, I was about to disappear for good."

"Running from Khushrenada," I replied knowingly.

But he shook his head. "Y'want the honest truth, 'Ro? I was going underground until I could find a way to kill Treize for what he did to Zechs."

My jaw dropped at the frank admission. "I thought you said you needed 'running money,' when you turned up at Sanc."

"I did. But once I got clear and things simmered down, I'd have been back," he said darkly.

"—to kill Treize?"

He nodded.

I had a horrible moment of imagining having to track Duo down for Khushrenada's murder, if he'd ever succeeded in his reckless plan. He'd have gone to prison—and I had no delusions about what his fate would have been there. The Oz organization wouldn't have taken the loss of its top man lightly—and they had more than enough people in the prison system to reach into even the most secure jail.

"_God_, Duo!"

He shrugged slightly. "I know. It wasn't exactly a smart plan. But all I could think, once I got away from the penthouse, was that he'd stolen my future as well as Zechs'. All the plans we'd made, and the dreams Zechs had—shot to Hell along with the man I loved." The indigo eyes went dark with malice. "I wanted to fuckin' rip Treize's heart out with my bare hands. He had no right—!"

His voice got a bit ragged, and he paused to catch his breath, while I rubbed his back soothingly. "You know Zechs wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away along with his," I pointed out.

I got a wry snort in response. "No shit. But he wasn't exactly around to voice his opinion, now was he?"

"I'm here to voice mine," I said in a husky whisper. "And I don't want you to throw your life away."

"I know," he said with a faint smile. "And whether you realize it or not, that's what made the difference."

I blinked in surprise. "_I _made a difference?"

He chuckled at my expression. "Jesus, 'Ro—all the difference in the world!"

"How?"

A faint blush crept up his face, and he turned his gaze away from me. "I told you I never forgot you. Seeing you again—made me rethink my plan to kill Treize—made me remember how much I wanted your respect instead of your contempt. It gave me something to think about besides revenge, 'Ro."

I studied his face for a long moment. "Like Trowa reminding you of the orphans?" I asked. "In the hospital, when you didn't want to cooperate—but wanted to get out from under the watchful eyes—so you could go after Khushrenada—."

He nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "Trowa reminded me there were other lives at risk. It wasn't just me against Khushrenada." A faint frown creased his forehead. "Made me damned angry, too, that it wasn't as simple as I wanted it to be."

I began to understand part of why he'd been so angry at the beginning. He didn't just hate cops—he saw us as an obstacle to his goal of avenging his lover's death.

But when did all that change?

"And then when I saw how hard you were working to keep me alive—and how much it meant to you to bring down Khushrenada—I started to realize our goals weren't so very different. Don't get me wrong; I'd have liked to see the bastard dead. But when you gave me a way to strike back at him legally—a way I could pay him back without necessarily losing my life in the bargain—." He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Didn't mean to lose my heart, though."

"Have you?" I couldn't help asking.

He blinked in surprise, looking up at me. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I guess," I conceded. "But you haven't—said it."

While I knew he cared, and he'd casually said "you, too" when I'd said I loved him—it wasn't the same as hearing those three words. I really wanted to hear them.

He opened his mouth, and an uneasy look crossed his face. "I—can't," he admitted quietly. "Look, 'Ro—I have my reasons. Really, I do. It's not that I don't feel it—just—."

I shook my head. "Stop trying to explain," I told him, trying to quell the disappointment tugging at my heart. "You don't owe me explanations."

"I feel like I do." He frowned deeply. "I don't have much of a track record, y'know. Seems like people I—care about—end up dead."

I knew he didn't mean the orphans or Trowa—so I had to guess he was referring to Solo and Zechs—the two men he'd openly said he loved.

"I have no intention of ending up dead," I assured him.

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don't wanna jinx that, either."

"Baka," I chided. "You're the one in danger."

"It's okay," he soothed. "I'm not gonna die either—not with so much incentive to live." He reached to pull me in for a long, heated kiss, and I poured my heart and soul into it. If he wanted incentive, I sure as hell intended to give him all I could.

When we broke the kiss, both panting slightly, I gazed earnestly into his eyes. "So does that mean I can have your promise that you won't resort to drugs again—ever?" I asked quietly.

A flicker of a scowl crossed his face—annoyance at my single-mindedness, I guessed.

"Please, Duo," I whispered. "Tell me no matter what happens, you won't try to numb the pain with shit like that. Tell me I don't have to worry about you giving up on yourself, or on life."

"If you died to save me—I don't know what I'd—."

"If I did, it would be more important than ever for you to respect the sacrifice," I said firmly. "But I don't plan on that happening. What scares me is thinking of you in relocation and getting lonely and lost again. I'd go crazy wondering if you were alive, or dead from some overdose or contaminated needles or drugs. Promise me you won't let that happen?"

He sighed deeply, pressing closer. "I promise," he murmured wearily. "I promise to live every moment I can—with or without you." A wistful smile touched his lips. "I don't promise to enjoy it, though."

I smiled back. "I didn't say I wanted you to be happy," I pointed out. "Just alive and well; happiness you'll have to find on your own. But as long as you're alive, you'll have that chance."

"Fuckin' sap," he muttered, shaking his head. Then he wriggled slightly, bringing us crotch to crotch and making the arousal that I'd been half-sporting all evening suddenly spring to full attention. "Now how 'bout you make me really happy right here and now?"

I glanced down the hallway where Chang had disappeared. "Too public," I said hoarsely.

"Cathy gave us individual rooms," he reminded me. "No reason we can't just share mine and lock the door for a few hours."

I never _could _say "no" to him…


	41. Stormy Seas

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I suppose in view of the fact that last chapter an anonymous someone took exception to the fact that Duo had been raped as a kid, and apparently I didn't clearly post notice of it (even though mention was made in chapters 15, 16, and 39), I should include more warnings. Therefore, be advised this story involves the abuse of a variety of foodstuffs and utensils, including but not limited to whipped cream, doughnuts, French fries, ketchup, honey, spoons, hamburgers, peaches, and spaghetti sauce. Most of those were molested in some way. I don't know if it was non-consensual, since it's hard to get an answer out of foodstuffs and utensils; so I'll cover my ass by warning you all now.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty One: Stormy Seas

The sunlight was slanting through the blinds when I woke up the next morning, with Duo curled deliciously around me, his hair loose and spread across us, and the sheets and blankets in a tangled mess.

Heaven.

I heard movement and footsteps in the hallway, but I knew the door was locked, and so I didn't worry about Chang getting an eyeful. I'd talk to him later and find out if our sharing a room was going to bother him, or if we might make it a permanent arrangement for the duration of our stay.

As the sounds faded off towards the kitchen, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the warmth of Duo's body and the smell of sweat and sex that rolled off us both. Sure, it'd be nice to have a hot shower and freshen up—but there was a lot to be said for the sheer pleasure of being hot, sweaty and dirty with Duo Maxwell.

"_Fuck 'Ro—you are so tight. Y'sure you want to—?"_

"_Dammit yes! I want you inside me—I want to feel you every way I can. You said I was yours—now prove it! Take what belongs to you!"_

_A breathy groan—the slow burn—and then I was transported to a place where all I could feel was Duo inside me. All I could hear were his panting breaths and gasps for air. All I could see were the deep pools of indigo, drinking me in. All I could taste were his kisses, salty with sweat, and yet sweeter than honey. And all I could smell…_

The breeze through the half-open window carried a briny tang, and bore with it the scent of my lover—sandalwood shampoo and sex. And it made me want him all over again.

I couldn't resist burying my face in the fall of chestnut hair that lay on the pillow between us and breathing deep.

"Still got the hair fetish, huh Yuy?" came a voice husky with sleep.

"Forever," I whispered back, rolling over to claim his lips in a deep, leisurely kiss.

He groaned and pressed against me, allowing me to feel his body stirring in response, even though his eyes were still closed.

"Y'want more?" he murmured invitingly when I let him up for air. "Y'wanna take what's yours?"

"Yes—repeatedly," I told him, watching his eyes flicker open to fix a lust-filled gaze on my face. "But I heard noise in the hallway, and I'd bet money Chang and Catherine are up and about."

"Screw Chang and Catherine—," he began. "Or better yet, screw _me_." He smiled lasciviously. "Fuck me through the goddamned mattress, why doncha?"

I hesitated, wondering if we could keep things quiet enough to be considerate of our housemates.

And then he rocked his hips against mine, bringing our erections into direct contact, and I lost the ability to reason—again.

We ended up making love with the salty breeze drifting in the window, and the distant sounds of seagulls calling and waves crashing on the shore for background music.

It was hours later when we finally finished sating our passion and made our way to the attached bathroom to shower and freshen up before joining the others at breakfast.

"Morning, sleepyheads!" Catherine sang out teasingly as we eventually emerged into the kitchen, as clean and presentable as we could manage with no energy left. "Want coffee or tea?"

"Caffeine—intravenous," Duo muttered between yawns, slumping into a chair by the kitchen table.

"Where's Chang?" I asked, rummaging for a cup and a tea bag in the container on the counter.

"He went to put your car in one of the barns," she told me, passing a pan of hot water over. "Something about 'keeping it out of sight until it's needed again?' And then he planned to walk down to the main road to get a feel for the lay of the land while he was at it." Her blue-grey eyes sparkled merrily. "He said not to bother waking you two, since it was your first chance to really rest in days."

"His, too," I pointed out.

"True—but he said he could take a nap later if he felt he needed one."

"I'll have to call him Old Man Chang if he does," Duo smirked, gratefully accepting a steaming mug from Cathy and liberally spooning sugar into it.

"Duo—."

"Aw, c'mon, 'Ro. You know he can take it," my lover chided. "And he can dish it out as well."

"Just be prepared to deal with whatever hornet's nest you stir up," I advised, picking up the honey and eyeing it speculatively. I'd never been big on sweets—but maybe I'd try my tea Duo's way just this once.

"You'll like it," he purred, looking over the rim of his cup with a sultry gaze.

Oh yes…I'd like it liberally smeared over Duo's naked flesh so I could lick it off, inch by delicious inch…until he was writhing under me…

I forcefully jerked my attention away from the honey jar, but I felt the heat on my cheeks as I hastily stirred my tea. Duo's throaty chuckle did nothing to ease my sudden discomfort.

"So—what are your plans for today?" Catherine asked brightly, her back to us as she started cracking eggs into a frying pan.

"Same as Chang," I shrugged, grateful for the distraction. "I want to scout around a bit and see how defensible this place really is. I may end up repositioning some of the mini cams in more strategic locations—and if you can give me directions to the nearest town and the loan of a car, I could pick up parts to assemble a few more surveillance devices."

"Shit—I'm tired just listening to you," Duo grumbled, downing half his cup of coffee in a few swallows. "What's wrong with lying on a beach, hm?"

"Aside from how exposed it is," I said acidly. "This isn't really sunbathing country. It's pretty cold this far north—in case you didn't notice that yesterday."

"There are some sheltered coves along this stretch of shore," Catherine said helpfully. "It's actually kind of nice to lie out on the sand with a cool breeze to keep you from overheating." She looked down at her cast ruefully. "Of course, I've stayed away from the water, with this thing."

"Well that's no good!" Duo told her. "If I'm gonna enjoy the beach, so are you. Maybe we can rig up a plastic bag to cover the cast and keep water and sand out."

"Maybe," she conceded. "Now, how do you two want your eggs?"

* * *

Wufei returned as Duo and I were doing the dishes for Catherine. We'd made her take a break and rest her leg in gratitude for the breakfast she'd cooked for us.

"Teaching Maxwell some manners, I see," Wufei teased, walking over to pour himself some tea.

"Hey!" Duo protested. "This was 'Maxwell's' idea, I'll have you know!"

Wufei glanced at me and I nodded confirmation. "He was the one who insisted," I admitted.

"So there!" Duo snapped the dish towel at Wufei's rear end.

"Maxwell—I swear, if that so much as touches me, I'll stuff it down your throat!"

Duo was obviously in a puckish mood—and his eyes glimmered with mischief as he twirled the towel to wrap it more tightly around itself.

Not wanting my protected witness and lover to end up on the receiving end of Chang's wrath, I stepped in between them. "Come on, Duo. Dishes are done—let's see about a grocery list. Would you like to make that beef stir-fry tonight?"

He darted me a narrow look, obviously knowing I'd deliberately intervened; but I merely blinked innocently and gave an innocuous smile.

"Fine," he muttered in resignation, tossing the towel aside on the counter. "Gotta pen an' paper so I can make a list of what I need?"

We spent the next half hour writing out a list of supplies to replenish what we'd used of Catherine's and stock up for at least a week's stay. We even included—reluctantly—more travel rations, just in case.

I jotted down some components for my electronic devices as well—parts easily acquired at any hardware store or computer shop.

After outlining our needs, we decided Wufei and Catherine could use her car to go get the groceries. It would familiarize Chang with the area, while keeping Howard's car off the road, on the off chance someone might have found out about our borrowing it. Not that I didn't trust Howard—or at least _want _to, for Duo's sake; but there was no point in being naïve about the situation. I was glad Chang had the presence of mind to stash the vehicle safely away from prying eyes or aerial surveillance.

"Does this list cover everything?" Wufei asked me, as Catherine went to get her purse and car keys.

"For now," I shrugged. "I'm sure we'll need to restock in a few days, and by then we'll know what we're likely to run short on."

The dark eyes slipped past me to fix a wary look on Duo, who was peering out the window at the windswept yard. "Keep a short leash on him, Yuy," he suggested. "He looks—restless."

"_He's _been cooped up in a car for too long again," Duo said tartly, turning around to scowl good-naturedly. "But a long walk on the beach and a few more—ah—a few rounds of sex ought to solve the problem."

A vaguely distasteful look crossed Wufei's face, but I could hardly blame him. Honestly, he was both a prude, and a recovering homophobe. Yes, I know that sounded like 'recovering alcoholic,' but if the shoe fit…

"Relax," I said soothingly. "There'll be nothing like that, Chang."

He eyed me a bit skeptically.

"Nothing like what?" Duo demanded. "No sex—or no walk?"

I didn't dare tell him in front of Chang that I knew damned well I wouldn't be able to resist him if it was sex he wanted. "Perhaps after I work on surveillance for a bit, we could check out the cove that Catherine mentioned," I suggested carefully.

"And have sex there?" he chirped brightly.

God—he was _so _yanking my partner's chain.

"Maxwell—," Wufei began.

"Don't get your shorts in a bunch," Duo chided. "I'm just kidding." He leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Shit, man—you gotta learn to just take whatever I say with a grain of salt. I'm just lookin' for a reaction, y'know."

Chang gave a long-suffering sigh. "I know all too well," he admitted. "Just remember, Yuy's life is at risk as much as yours. If you give a shit about him—."

"I won't take risks," Duo asserted, his tone serious. "Same goes for you and Cathy. She's like family to Trowa—so you better watch her back."

My partner's shoulders stiffened. "Of course I will. I'd never put a woman in harm's way!"

I refrained from pointing out that our presence there more or less _did _put a woman in harm's way. Chang didn't need the guilt trip right now; for that matter, neither did I.

It was with some relief that I saw Catherine maneuvering down the stairs on her crutches, purse in hand. "Ready to go, Wufei?"

He gave a curt nod, though I thought I saw a hint of warmth enter the dark eyes. "It will be a pleasure to get away from these two for a while." He jerked a thumb towards us, and Duo rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out.

"Right back atcha, 'Fei-fei."

Only the rigid set of his spine as he strolled off with Catherine conveyed my partner's dislike of the disrespectful nickname. "Careful, love," I said quietly to Duo. "Or he'll forget your cigarettes."

Duo grinned unrepentantly. "No he won't—my bitching would drive him nuts."

"True," I conceded.

I waited only long enough to be sure Wufei and Catherine were outside and the door closed, and then stole a quick kiss from Duo before heading off to check the surveillance monitor, now that it was daylight and I could more accurately assess the placement of the cameras.

I half-expected Duo to come try to coax me back into bed, for the "few more rounds" of sex he'd mentioned earlier. I was beginning to think he was downright insatiable.

Not that I minded much.

Or at _all_.

But instead of trying to seduce me away from the laptop, he found other things to occupy his time. He settled into the living room with his sketch pad and his headphones on, scribbling madly away…for the first hour or so.

Then he apparently got restless, getting up and putting his things away before heading to the kitchen. I soon heard suspicious noises—the sound of him rummaging in cupboards and drawers—and then I watched out of the corner of my eyes as he trotted down the hall towards the bedrooms where our belongings were stashed.

Several moments later, I glimpsed him coming back, a bundle in his arms, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What _are _you doing, Maxwell?"

He grinned slyly. "It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises."

His chuckle drifted after him as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me, Yuy!" he sang out.

I scowled at the screen, keying in the command for automated alerts if the cameras detected any motion larger than a seagull. "Duo?"

"Aw hold yer horses!"

I wanted to know what he was up to—badly enough that I cut my programming session short and got up.

I stepped into the kitchen just in time to see him strip out of the jeans he was wearing. "Duo!"

He looked over his shoulder, a coy expression on his face. "You've seen my ass before, you know."

"But why am I seeing it in Catherine's kitchen?" _Not that I'm complaining._

And more to the point, how was I supposed to keep my hands off of it? Already my fingers twitched with the urge to touch.

And my imagination supplied a wealth of reasons my lover could be buck naked in a kitchen. I wondered briefly if I was about to find out just how delicious honey could be, if served right.

But then he turned and held up a scrap of fabric. "I modified a pair of my jeans so I can go stick my feet in the ocean." He pulled on his newly-made cutoffs, tugging them up but leaving them unfastened in a tantalizing display. He'd cut them pretty short. So short, in fact, that his legs looked a mile long. _Gorgeous_.

"Duo—we shouldn't be out in the open like—."

"Please!" he pleaded, eyes wide. "Seriously, 'Ro. This is important to me. I've never touched or tasted sea water—never felt waves over my toes. I really, _really _want this."

Didn't I say I could never deny him?

He sidled up to me and wrapped his arms around my neck even before I mumbled my assent. And then he thanked me by shoving his tongue in my mouth and kissing the living shit out of me.

He pulled away as breathless as I was, a dreamy look in his eyes. "Man, 'Ro—you kiss like no one I've ever met!"

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if that was good or bad.

"Perfect," he sighed, once again seeming to read my thoughts.

Yeah, well, I thought the things Duo could do with _his _mouth put me completely to shame as far as talent went. But instead of elaborating, I just kissed him again, delighting in the way he sagged against me, as if I made him weak in the knees. I _wanted _to make him weak in the knees—it did my ego a world of good to feel like I had that much power over him.

When I stopped, he let out a groan; or maybe it was more of a whimper.

"Still want to go swimming?" I teased.

It told me how badly he wanted to play in the ocean when he managed to nod half-heartedly. "I do, 'Ro," he said, his voice still a bit ragged with desire. "Maybe not swim—but at least wade."

"I take it this is something to cross off that list?" I hazarded.

"Yeah—right behind 'keep Yuy forever,'" he replied.

I found myself grinning irrepressibly. "And you called _me _a sentimental sap? What happened to tough-guy Maxwell?"

"Hey, I'm still tough!" he protested. "Doesn't mean I can't have my romantic moments."

"It's okay," I said soothingly. "I'll never tell." I pulled away and grabbed his hand. "This time we're going prepared. Grab a towel or two."

"Oh—you planning on coming in the water with me?" he asked in delight.

"Not likely—I told you the water's pretty cold around here. But if we bring a towel, when you freeze your ass off and come out, I can dry you off."

"Freeze my _ass _off?" he echoed. "Oh, you wouldn't like _that _very much, would you?"

"Which is why I'll do all I can to prevent it," I assured him.

* * *

We made our preparations, leaving a note for Wufei to tell him exactly where we were going and how long we expected to be. I also set up the remote alert for the surveillance monitor to alert me via the beeper I carried, and took the disposable cell phone, knowing Chang had memorized the number.

By the time I finished, Duo was in the doorway fairly bouncing with excitement.

That was a sight in itself, as he was clad in a snug tee shirt, the cutoff shorts, and sneakers, with a hooded sweatshirt and towel over his arm in case he got cold. I just couldn't get over those lean, muscular legs; I was so used to seeing them clad in snug jeans or leather. Granted, I'd kissed and nibbled just about every inch of them—but that was a more tactile and less visual way of enjoying them. At the moment, I just wanted to soak up the glorious vision in the doorway.

"Today, Yuy!" he urged.

I grinned at his impatience. "Give a guy a chance, Maxwell. I haven't seen your legs like that since you and Trowa did your little performance."

He glanced down as if suddenly realizing the picture he presented, and then looked up from under his bangs, his eyes half-lidded. "You can do a lot more than look at 'em, y'know."

"Not if we're going to take a walk," I pointed out. "I start touching—I won't be able to stop. At least not until I've had my fill."

"Oooh," he moaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Does that mean you want me to 'top' again?"

"Any time you like," I promised, discarding my nonchalance, and walking over to pull him up against me so he could feel how much I wanted him. I ground our hips together, eliciting a very satisfying gasp and groan from him. "Maybe after that walk—when you need warming up."

I pulled away before I could lose all semblance of control, and brushed a light kiss across his lips. "Let's get going." I headed for the door at a brisk walk.

"Already am," he muttered, close behind me.

We made our way down a rocky trail, cliffs on one side, and the beach a ways below—until we came out on the smooth sand. It was, as Catherine had said, less windy down there. The breeze seemed to wash over us in favor of the cliffs and exposed shore.

Of course, as we went down by the water, it was definitely stronger. If Duo had sunbathing in mind, we'd have had to seek out a hollow between two jutting headlands, and hope the wind just blew past.

But the last thing on Duo's mind was sitting or lying down. Instead, he explored along the edge of the water, where the waves spread up onto the shore, and he marveled at just about everything.

He picked up shells and stones, commenting on the variety he found, and tossing some into the water, while pocketing others. And every odd little track of bird or crab got a quick scrutiny and speculation on what had made it. But, it was a clump of tangled driftwood and seaweed that stopped him in his tracks to investigate in more detail.

"What the hell's that?"

"Seaweed, Maxwell. Surely you've seen pictures—movies—_something_."

"It doesn't look like that on television," he sniffed in reply, poking at a clump of bubbly-looking, slimy greenish-brown seaweed with a stick he'd found. Crouched there on the sand, he looked about five—totally, adorably innocent.

"In Japan, seaweed is used in a lot of cooking," I told him. "I'd think a culinary genius such as yourself would know all about it."

He looked over his shoulder at me. "I've had sushi," he said a bit defensively. "And the seaweed wrap doesn't look anything like this stuff."

"Because it's a totally different kind." I picked up a bit of the seaweed and found it rubbery-feeling. And if you poked with a thumbnail, you could pop the little bubbles.

"Hey—like bubble-wrap!" he grinned, helping himself to some.

I began to regret my little natural history lesson as I listened to the incessant pops as we walked further down the beach. "That's—a sort of irritating sound," I pointed out.

He grinned widely. "Ain't it?"

I sighed, walking a bit faster, hoping to distance myself from the noise.

The next thing I knew, a wad of the wet, salty-smelling stuff collided with the back of my head with a smack.

I turned sharply, eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh you did _not_—!"

He saw the shift of expression in my eyes, and his own widened in panic. "Oops."

"Oops is right. I'm gonna make you taste a new kind of seaweed!" I promised, picking up a clump and heading towards him.

With a startled yelp, he turned tail and ran.

It felt good to sprint down that long, sandy beach, Duo's braid dancing teasingly in front of me as I gradually gained ground. I had a moment of nostalgia, harking back to our first meeting—or at least the first one where we were formally introduced. And I made sure when I finally overtook him, to bring him down on a patch of soft sand, instead of anywhere there might be rocks.

"Shit, no!" he wailed, struggling face-down as I pinned him, dangling the seaweed in front of his eyes. "I fuckin' hate sushi, Yuy!"

I started laughing then, which made it hard to keep him pinned. "Just a taste," I taunted. "You might like it with this kind of seaweed."

He was squirming and bucking underneath me, until with a triumphant yell, he rolled us over so he was on top. His indigo eyes were sparkling with victory. "I'm not gonna eat—."

I had just enough free movement in one arm to stick the soggy, sand-covered mess right in his mouth, though in all honesty, probably only a strand or two actually made it past his lips.

The next thing I knew, I was free, and he was sitting back on the sand, spitting and sputtering and flinging the seaweed in all directions. I burst out laughing at his outraged expression. "You started it!"

He wiped the sand from his lips, glaring at me, though he looked more amused than angry. "I didn't make you _eat_ it," he argued.

"No—you pummeled me with it," I replied with a scowl of my own. It was actually probably a rather petulant expression, because it made him blink and stare.

"Pummeled?" he echoed, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.

"Yes—pummeled."

"Wouldn't that imply that I hit you repeatedly?" he asked, picking up a few stray strands of the stuff.

"Don't even _think _about it," I warned. "Once was enough."

"Baby."

"Bully."

"Sore loser."

"I didn't lose. I reciprocated."

His grin was almost contagious. "Oh, today is the day for big words, isn't it, Yuy? 'Pummeled…reciprocated…' What's next—?" His eyes glimmered slyly. "Fornication?"

My breath caught at the sight of him with sand in his glorious hair, eyes half-lidded and full of lust, clothes mussed from our tussle—talking about fornication.

"Too much sand," I gasped out, getting up hastily and beginning to shake and brush the stuff out of and off of my clothes. "Besides, you want to go in the water."

He stood up too, the seaweed forgotten, and began shaking off sand. "I do," he agreed. "Almost as much as I wanna fuck you."

"Later," I said firmly. "Right now I want you to get this ocean fixation out of your system. Go splash in the waves while I find out how far back you dropped the towel and hoodie."

Yeah, in all the excitement, he'd tossed those aside long since.

"Oh, right." He looked a bit sheepish, but pouted adorably. "Your fault for chasing me like that," he mumbled unconvincingly.

"As I said before, you started it." I headed back down the beach we'd just sprinted along, seeing the crumpled heap of towel and sweatshirt quite a ways off. "Damn. Didn't know we ran that far."

When Duo didn't reply, I looked back to see him taking off his shoes in preparation for dabbling his feet in the water. All I could do was shake my head at the once-again childlike image he presented, and hope to God that after seeing him like that, feeling the way I did about him didn't make me a pedophile.

Yeah, I know, he was a grown man—only a couple of years younger than me. But he could come across as either a tough, jaded street punk, or a wide-eyed innocent. And I wasn't sure which one attracted me more…unless it was the sensual and sensitive combination of the two. That made me feel a lot better as I hiked down the beach.

I gathered up the discarded sweatshirt and shook the sand out of it, looking back at Duo to see him ankle-deep in the water, arms wrapped around himself as if he were cold. I couldn't help but grin; I'd warned him of the chilly water this far north.

By the time I retrieved the towel and shook it out, he was knee-deep, bending to run his fingers through the white-capped waves. His hair was windblown—half out of its braid from our wrestling match—and it framed his face and shoulders, the sunshine setting it aflame. I could have stared all day.

_Fuckin' gorgeous._

* * *

I took my time returning to him, letting him enjoy the water. And enjoy it he did, going in up to his thighs, apparently delighting in the way the waves slapped at his legs. As for me, I was just delighting in the expression on his face as he played in the rough surf.

I picked up his discarded sneakers and stood watching as a larger wave nearly smacked him in the ass. "Careful—," I cautioned as he stumbled in the moving water. "It's not like the lake."

"No—it's colder!" he asserted, hugging his arms to himself again. "Damn cold!" He looked coyly over his shoulder. "Wanna come out here and warm me up?"

"Not likely," I drawled, staying on the shore and crossing my arms.

"Spoilsport," he pouted, turning and splashing at me. But he was much too far out to reach me with the salty water. "What if a fish bites me? Or a _shark_?" he demanded. "Would ya come out here then?"

"Only to retrieve the body," I said with a straight face.

"Well wouldn't _that _be ironic?" he grinned. "They'd never believe you back at the precinct. 'My witness got eaten by sharks.' Yeah—a likely story. Kinda like the dog eatin' your homework."

I had a sudden flash of unease, and I stepped closer to the water. "Why don't you come out now?" I suggested. "We can walk on the beach to warm you up."

He leered comically at me. "But Yuy—think of all the unpleasant places the sand could end up!"

"I said 'walk,' not 'fuck,' Maxwell."

"Hey, they sound alike," he pointed out, starting to come towards me. "An' of the two, the second one would warm me up the most."

I tried not to grin at his warped logic, but he looked so very young and amused, it was hard not to.

I was saved by the sight of two figures emerging from the trail by the cliffs, and jerked my head in that direction. "Chang and Catherine are back," I noted, having also observed the rather solicitous way my partner was helping the girl on crutches. _Budding romance, anyone? _"If you want sex, it'll have to be after hours and behind closed doors again."

"Suits me," he shrugged, his smile turning lascivious. "Any place, any time."

"Come out of the water now," I urged, holding out a hand. "Let's go see how their shopping trip went."

He started towards me, and when he let out a sudden yelp, bending to grab at one submerged foot and hopping awkwardly in the knee-deep surf, my amusement faded.

"Stop clowning around, Maxwell!" I started for the water, scowling at his antics.

"Shit—ow!" he yelled, trying to lift a foot out of the water while clutching it in both hands, and ending up toppling over backwards.

"Duo!" I tossed aside the clothes and shoes, and strode into the surf, torn between concern and anger, wanting nothing more than to strangle him for clowning around this way. My jeans got soaked up to the knees, but I paid that no heed as I hauled him upright.

"That is e-_nough_!" I snapped scoldingly. "Considering your situation, pretending to be shark-bitten is in very poor taste!"

He looked up at me, his hair plastered to a startlingly pale face. "N-not k-k-kidding!" he said through chattering teeth.

I looked down and saw a cloud of red spreading through the water, and tingeing the foam of the breaking waves. "Oh my God—!"

I scooped Duo up in my arms, expecting to see a bloody stump where a leg should be. But he seemed to be intact, except for the blood pouring down one foot and dripping off his heel.

He was shivering uncontrollably, though whether from cold or pain I couldn't tell, as I hurried towards the shore.

Wufei and Catherine had come running—or hobbling, in Catherine's case—at his first shout, and met me as I carried him to high ground before setting him carefully down.

"Ow—fuckin' salt water—," he gasped as I bent to examine his foot. "S-stings like hell!"

"What happened?" demanded Chang, scowling down at the spreading pool of blood on the sand.

"S-stepped on somethin,'" Duo ground out between gritted teeth.

I gingerly lifted his foot, and winced as I saw a protruding piece of glass. "Broken bottle." I grimaced up at Chang.

"Hold him," he ordered, dropping to one knee and taking a grip on Duo's foot. I wrapped my arms around Duo's body, pulling him back against my chest.

"What're you gonna—hey! Ow! _Fuck_!" Duo jerked sharply as my partner unceremoniously drew the shard of glass from his foot.

Blood promptly gushed from the deep cut, and Wufei started to untuck his shirt for a makeshift bandage.

"Here—use this!" Catherine said, pulling something from her purse.

Chang grabbed it without looking, and then recoiled. "It's—it's—."

"A sanitary napkin," she drawled with a wryly amused expression. "Yes, Chang. But it's wrapped up in paper, so it's essentially sterile—and it's very absorbent."

"Ew!" Duo groaned. "Chang—no!"

Wufei clenched his jaw, unwrapped the folded pad, and pressed it against the wound, gripping tightly to apply pressure.

"Aw, man!" Duo whined, writhing in discomfort. I wasn't sure if it was pain from the foot, or squeamishness over the feminine hygiene product being used on it.

"He'll need stitches," Wufei predicted, holding up a bloodied piece of glass that consisted of half the bottom of a bottle and part of the side sticking up at right angles. Because of its shape, it must have been pointing straight up. "It's at least a half inch deep," Chang added.

Duo was still shivering against me, and I was afraid he might be going into shock from the pain and the dunk in the cold water. "Let's get him up to the house and out of these wet clothes," I suggested, feeling awful about the whole incident. I should never have brought him down to the water.

"'S okay, 'Ro," he said between chattering teeth as I scooped him up again, while Wufei kept hold of his foot and the unconventional bandage. "Not your fault."

I must have gaped at him, because he brushed a cold hand across my cheek. "Y'got that look on your face—like you think you're to blame."

"I shouldn't have let you in the water," I said with a scowl. "Or I should have made you wear shoes. I knew the risks—."

"You're not my mother," he chided. "Shit, Yuy—I'm a big boy."

"A big baby," Chang teased.

Catherine plunked up the stairs ahead of us, throwing open the door of the farmhouse and holding it as I carried Duo inside, heading for the couch.

"I'll get towels," she volunteered, already moving towards the stairs.

She returned in record time for someone on crutches, with towels and a thick blanket, before I'd even finished pulling Duo's wet tee shirt off over his head.

We had him stripped, rubbed dry, and bundled up within moments, his hair wrapped in a plush towel, and the rest of his body swathed in a comforter. After sprinting down the hall to throw on dry clothes of my own, I went back to sit on the couch, and act as a pillow for Duo's head and shoulders, my arms wrapped around him for warmth. His foot we kept elevated using pillows and an arm of the couch, and Wufei kept a steady grip on the wound the whole time.

"Catherine—," he said, glancing down at the pad, which was gradually becoming soaked in blood.

"I'll get more." She hobbled off and returned with a box of sanitary napkins, peeling another open as Wufei removed the sodden one.

He placed the new covering on the wound and resumed pressure. "It's slowed a bit," he told me. "But seriously, we should consider the emergency room."

"We can't," I growled in frustration. "Even if we use an alias, he's liable to draw attention and end up back on the radar."

"I know a local vet—," Catherine began.

"I'm not a fuckin' horse!" Duo protested. "I'm not going to any goddamned vet!"

She turned a fierce glare on him. "First off, I had no intention of taking you there, and secondly, all I was going to suggest is that I could go get suture materials and do the stitches myself. I _am _a vet tech, you know."

His jaw dropped and then he turned a panicked look my way. "I don't need stitches, 'Ro. Tell her!"

"Looked pretty deep to me," I admitted reluctantly. "I think it's a good idea."

"Aw, fuck." He leaned his head back against my chest, squeezing his eyes shut. "Gonna hurt like hell…"

"Don't worry," I murmured soothingly. "We'll make it as painless as possible."

Catherine straightened, turning a hopeful look to Wufei. "Can you drive me? We can go to the clinic and get everything we'll need."

"Of course, if you get me something to bind this foot with first."

"Sure."

Catherine came back with duct tape, which made Duo groan and bury his face against my shoulder.

I couldn't help smirking as Chang doubled up the maxi pad bandage and wound duct tape twice around it to keep pressure on the wound. "Hush, love," I whispered in Duo's ear. "It'll be okay—I promise."

He nodded, hissing in pain as Chang pulled the binding tight.

"Suck it up, Maxwell," urged my partner. "You were less of a baby after you got shot."

"I was more distracted that time," growled my lover. "And it hurt less."

Then Chang surprised me by brushing a light hand across the back of Duo's head in a soothing gesture. "We'll be quick," he promised quietly. "And I'll see what we can bring back for pain."

"Scotch might be nice," Duo mumbled into my shirt.

Wufei chuckled warmly. "I was thinking more along the lines of ibuprofen, or a topical numbing agent." He gave me a rather worried look. "Keep him still and keep the foot up until we return." A hint of a smirk twitched the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure you can think of a way to—distract him."

"Bite me," I growled, feeling a faint blush at the suggestive comment from my oh-so proper partner.

Duo lifted his head to look at me with a fake frown. "Hey, that's _my _job!"

Wufei flinched, his own cheeks coloring. "See you two later." He beat a hasty retreat along with Catherine, leaving Duo and me alone.

"How's your foot feeling?" I asked, laying Duo's head back against my forearm and stroking his forehead with my free hand.

"Like it's on fire," he muttered through a tight jaw. "Stupid fuckin' thing to have happen!"

"I should've made you wear sneakers into the water," I sighed.

"Stop blaming yourself," he scolded again. "Shit happens."

"Yeah, but too much of it happens to you."

"Naw," he said with a wan smile. "You got shot, 'Fei they barely missed…an' then there was 'Fei gettin' chased by a bear…and you hurt your back moving the boat off that rock…"

"I get the point."

His grin widened. "By the way, did I tell you how totally brilliant you were—leading the bad guys to that rock and makin' 'em crash their boat?"

"I think you did," I pointed out, recalling his outburst. "And it wasn't cleverness on my part—it was desperation."

"It was _awesome_!"

I couldn't help smiling back at his enthusiasm, glad he seemed distracted from his pain. "It _was_ pretty cool, wasn't it?"

"You're pretty cool," he replied warmly.

"I beg to differ," I said with a teasing smirk. "You make me so hot sometimes it feels like I'll burst into flame."

"Oooh," he groaned. "You say the nicest things."

"Only to you, love. Only to you." I leaned in for a kiss, feeling that customary mixture of exhilaration and fear when I thought of all the dangers we'd come through and had yet to face. How crazy was I to fall for someone in such a precarious position?

And yet, at moments like that, with him cradled in my arms and no immediate threat to our lives, I knew I wouldn't trade a minute of what we'd shared. He was all the more precious to me, since I'd come so close to losing him. I just hoped there'd come a time we could be together without the danger nipping at our heels; because sure as shit, once Khushrenada's trial was a thing of the past, I planned to be part of Duo's future.


	42. Common Ground

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Two: Common Ground

While being alone with Duo in my arms could have been an enjoyable pastime, knowing how much pain he was in sort of spoiled it for me. So I kept busy by toweling dry, combing, and helping braid his hair, before settling in to wait for our companions to return.

It seemed like forever before I heard the car pulling into the garage. And the very moment Wufei stepped through the door, my attention turned to getting Duo's foot treated and properly bandaged.

"How is he?" Chang asked brusquely as he held the door open for Catherine.

"Pretty uncomfortable," I hazarded, having felt each and every twitch or shiver as Duo suffered through the half hour of waiting. He'd tried to be stoic about it—but cradled in my arms he couldn't possibly conceal his discomfort completely.

Catherine held up a bottle. "Wufei—would you get a glass?"

"Scotch?" Duo asked, sitting up a bit.

"As a matter of fact," she grinned, "it is. Wufei and I decided a few shots might relax you before I go messing with your foot. We don't need you jerking it away while I work."

His eyes widened. "You're really gonna stitch it, aren't you?"

"I think we should." She took the cup Wufei brought out of the kitchen and poured a couple of fingers of scotch into it. "Just sip this for awhile, Duo. I want to boil some water and lay out the equipment on a clean tray."

She set the remainder of the liquor on the coffee table, and headed to the kitchen, with my partner at her side.

Meanwhile, Duo tossed back the scotch in record time, and reached for the bottle.

"Easy there," I chided, intercepting it and pouring another small amount into his glass. "Go slow. You had a huge shock to your system, and don't need to go overboard. It'll hit you hard when it kicks in."

He leaned back and smiled mirthlessly up at me. "Believe me, 'Ro. I know the effect liquor has on me. Tried to drown myself in it often enough."

"Yes, but this time you've lost blood and been nearly hypothermic. Hot cocoa would be better for you."

"But it wouldn't loosen me up enough to relax for stitches," he pointed out.

"No, I suppose not. But after she's done, you're having something more substantial."

Chang came to lean in the doorway. "Already thought of that, Yuy. I have soup warming up on the stove for afterwards."

"Aw, I didn't get to make stir-fry," Duo lamented.

"There's always tomorrow," I assured him.

By the time Catherine called Wufei to help carry out her medical equipment, Duo had consumed enough scotch to make him a bit—blurry around the edges. He wasn't outright drunk. But the tension had eased out of his body, and he had that slightly unfocused look in his eyes that seemed to indicate he was feeling no pain—in the figurative sense. I was sure he still felt that throbbing cut very keenly. He was just too—detached—to do anything about it.

"Ready?" I asked, brushing a kiss across his forehead.

"No—but that's pretty much beside the point," he sighed.

Wufei laid the tray of instruments and bandages on the coffee table and took a position halfway down the couch, between Duo and Catherine, so that he blocked my lover's view of the injured foot, and could hold the leg steady. Catherine had brought out a stool from the kitchen, and settled herself at the end of the couch, slipping on exam gloves, and using a flexible desk lamp to illuminate the work area.

"I'm going to unwrap it, Duo," she told him, her voice soothing and calm. "And then I'll clean it with a mild antiseptic. Sea water has natural antimicrobial properties, which should have minimized the risk of infection—but I don't want to take any shortcuts on a wound this deep."

"Yeah sure," he said tensely. "Just go ahead and do what you've gotta do."

"It'll sting a bit," she warned.

I tightened my hold on him, feeling a tremor as Catherine began rinsing the cut. "Shh," I whispered in his ear, letting my lips brush against it in an intimate gesture. "Don't think about it, love. Just focus on my voice, okay?"

"Yeah," he gasped out, closing his eyes and snuggling into me a bit harder.

"I brought a topical Novocain," Catherine said in the same relaxed, matter-of-fact tone, even as she was passing the used and bloody gauze to Wufei. "Once I put that on, Duo, you should feel only the slightest pain—mostly just pressure."

"Sounds swell," he ground out through gritted teeth.

I had to admit, Catherine worked fast. Once she swabbed on that pain killer, and gave it a moment to take effect, she wasted no time in applying antibiotic ointment and beginning the stitches.

"'Ro? What's she doing?" Duo asked, one hand gripping my forearm with bruising force.

"Oh—just dabbing on a bit of ointment," I lied smoothly, figuring if he couldn't feel the needle, he didn't need to hear about it.

"Yeah, well, it still feels kind of tingly—stinging."

"It'll be over soon," I promised, running my tongue very gently along the shell of his ear.

"Oh—oooh," he groaned, tilting his head to give me easier access. "Don't stop now," he urged.

Catherine glanced briefly up at me over Wufei's head, smirking at what she saw and winking one big, blue-grey eye. "Won't be long," she said confidently. "If the topical is working, I can go ahead and stitch."

She and I both knew she was already doing just that. But Duo didn't.

"Yeah—sure—whatever," he sighed, his attention completely on me as I bent to nibble the ear I'd just kissed. "Hey, Yuy?" he whispered far too loudly. "When she's done, could you take me to bed, hm?"

"You'll need supper first," I warned, brushing light kisses across his jaw.

"Just want you," he insisted, turning so his lips met mine.

I knew he was probably more than half-drunk, so I resisted the urge to just devour his mouth, and kept my kiss warm and gentle—restrained.

The sound of Wufei's throat clearing made me pull back guiltily, and elicited a protesting whine from Duo.

"_What_?" he demanded petulantly.

"I'd prefer not to watch your blatant display, that's what," came my partner's scolding voice.

"Well tough shit," Duo growled back. "If it fuckin' keeps my mind off my foot, I'll let Yuy screw me right here, Chang, whether you like it or not."

Wufei rolled his eyes. "That won't be necessary. Catherine is finished."

Duo looked down at his foot in surprise, just as Catherine was snipping the end off the gauze she'd wound around it.

She smiled warmly at him. "Yep—all done. And as soon as I tape the gauze securely in place and we put a clean sock over it for protection, you can have some supper and ibuprofen."

"You're done?" he asked incredulously. "But when? I thought you said you were gonna start just a few minutes ago."

"I was half finished by that time," she shrugged, smirking.

Duo looked suspiciously at me.

"She was," I admitted. "You didn't seem real interested in her progress when I was kissing your ear, so I didn't see the need to give you moment by moment details."

"You'll have to keep the bandage clean and dry," Catherine told him firmly, stripping off her gloves and adding them to the pile of waste on the tray. "After a day or two, when we change the dressing, maybe we can bring up some nice sea water for you to soak it in. Or you could even go to the beach and do it—as long as you wear flip flops or something. Sea water has healing properties."

Duo snorted skeptically. "Coulda fooled me," he grumbled.

"It was the bottle—not the ocean—that caused your injury," Chang reminded him.

"Yeah, but the ocean stung like a bitch once my foot was cut."

"It helped keep the wound clean," Catherine pointed out. "And luckily Heero had the presence of mind to carry you up the beach, so no sand got into the cut. That would've been hard to flush out." She stood up, reaching for her crutches, but Wufei quickly passed them to her. She blushed adorably as she tucked them under her arms. "Oh, thank you."

He gave her a small smile and a curt nod. "You're welcome." He stood and began gathering the used supplies. "I'll bring this along—why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

She nodded, hobbling off, and Duo frowned as he watched her go. "Hey, Chang—y'know Cathy's a little like family."

"Your point?"

"Just—don't fuck with her, okay?"

I blinked in surprise at his protective tone.

"Unlike _you_, Maxwell—I don't fuck with people," Wufei growled back.

"I'm just sayin'—."

"And _I'm _saying—I'm not like you and your kind!" snapped my partner. I didn't know if he was irritated at being caught showing interest in Catherine, or just tired and stressed, but I didn't think Duo was up to another of their altercations.

"Wufei—," I began warningly, glancing at the half-empty scotch bottle.

"_My _kind?" Duo asked dangerously.

"Criminals—street punks—gangs—," elaborated Chang.

He didn't say "gays," but it hung in the air nonetheless.

"We're back to _that_?" Duo demanded. "Jesus, Chang—isn't it about time you told me what the fuck your beef with me is?"

"Duo, relax," I urged. "You've had a hard afternoon, and more than a little scotch—."

"_Fuck _that, Yuy!" he cut me off, struggling into an upright position to glare at my partner. "I wanna know what your stick-up-his-ass pal has had against me from day one! I'm tired of his fuckin' mood swings and attitudes!" His eyes gleamed with anger. "Yuy's been makin' excuses for you, Chang—but I'm not buyin' 'em any more!"

"Excuses?" Wufei shot me a cold look. "You _told _him?"

"No! Not about—her." I met his scowl with one of my own. "But it's time _you _did. He has a right to know what started your attitude—why you keep getting stuck on what he used to be—."

"My personal life—."

"—keeps interfering with your judgment," I pointed out.

He frowned deeply, reaching a hand to massage his temple—only suddenly Duo caught his wrist in a firm grip. "Talk t'me, Chang," he said firmly, his eyes catching and holding my partner's. "Jus' give me a good reason why you blame me for something you lost, and we can get all this dancing around the issue over with." He gave a crooked, slightly-tipsy smile. "I might even let ya belt me one, if I feel like I deserve any of the shit you've been shoveling my way."

At that, my partner just wilted, pushing aside the tray and sinking down onto the coffee table. "You don't deserve it," he admitted in a defeated voice.

"I'm glad to hear that," replied my lover. "Now you wanna tell me what I was takin' the blame for?"

"I—." Wufei looked at me and I nodded for him to continue. "Look, Maxwell—it wasn't you. It's never been about you. But—when I was much younger I lost someone I loved very much—to a gang leader. He cost me her love, and he cost her, her life."

Duo frowned thoughtfully, waiting for Wufei to continue.

"Meilan was my childhood sweetheart," Chang elaborated. "She was that 'pretty little Chinese girl' you've been taunting me about. And when we were in high school she met some gang leader in Chinatown." He sighed, his dark eyes distant. "They bumped into each other and she spilled her basket of fruit—he helped her pick it all up—he and his _boyfriend_."

Duo's eyes had widened in his still-pale face, and he looked rather fixated on Chang's story.

"She laughed about the incident at first—but I noticed she soon found more excuses to go back there—and more fault with her parents, and me, and our relationship." He shrugged slightly, looking down at his hands which were twisted together in his lap. "The next thing I knew, she'd dropped out of school and run off with him." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Apparently he wasn't _just _interested in guys."

"Not gay," Duo said quietly. "Bi-."

"I might have been able to get over losing her to him," Wufei continued. "Eventually. But less than three months after she left home, her parents and I were called to the morgue to identify her body." His hands were now busy twisting the fabric at the hem of his shirt into a tight knot. "She was killed in a drive-by shooting."

"M-meilan?" Duo stammered out, sounding drunker than I'd thought he was.

Chang looked at him questioningly.

"You said her name was—Meilan?"

"Yes. Long Meilan—and before she was swept off her feet by a piece of street trash, she was my fiancée."

Duo pushed away from me, struggling to get to his feet.

"Whoa—Duo! What are you doing?" I asked in alarm, quickly getting up to steady him, as he clutched the comforter around himself and tried to hop away from the couch.

"I—I need to use the bathroom!" he blurted, clutching my shoulder for support, his injured foot unable to bear weight.

"Right now?" I demanded.

"Yes, now," he replied through a tight jaw. "Just get me the fuck to the john, all right?"

I wrapped a supporting arm around his waist, taking most of his weight, and exchanging a quick, puzzled look with my partner before escorting him down the hall.

"Do you feel sick?" I asked with concern, wondering if he'd consumed too much alcohol, or if he just needed to use the toilet.

"Kinda," he admitted, hopping ahead of me as we reached the door, and moving to shut it.

But I was right on his heels, and stepped into the small room with him.

"A little privacy, Yuy?" he asked with a scowl.

"As you pointed out earlier, I've seen your bare ass," I reminded him.

"I don't need you to watch me take a leak!" he snapped.

"You aren't here for that," I replied curtly, studying the wild look in his eyes and the even paler complexion of his face. "Talk to me, Duo."

He sank down on the lid of the toilet, and I closed the door and locked it behind us, a sudden horrible suspicion settling like a block of ice in my stomach. "You know something about Meilan's death, don't you?"

He nodded, and my breath caught in my throat. If the Reapers had been the ones responsible for the drive-by, I wasn't sure how Wufei would react. He could prove far more dangerous to our witness than any ten of Khushrenada's hit men, if he thought Duo had a hand in Meilan's murder.

My lover's silence was tearing at my nerves. "Damn it, Duo—_talk_ to me!"

He glanced up from under his bangs, wincing at my expression. "It's not what you're thinking," he said defensively.

"I sure hope not!" I blurted. "Tell me you and your friends weren't the ones who killed her."

He gaped at me, hurt and anger vying for control on his face. "You fuckin' think I'd _do _something like that?"

"I need to hear you say you didn't," I said firmly.

He opened his mouth, and I could tell a vicious "_fuck you_" was on the tip of his tongue.

"Duo—please!" I added quickly.

He hesitated, anger flickering in the dark eyes, and then he sighed and shook his head, looking away. "I didn't do it; none of the Reapers did."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, and moved closer, dropping to my knees in front of him and taking hold of his shaking hands. "Please don't be mad at me—I had to ask."

"I know you did," he admitted wearily. "But what would you have done if I said yes?"

What indeed? There was no statute of limitations on murder. If Duo had participated in a drive-by shooting, he'd be an accessory at the very least. And as the only surviving Reaper, he'd take the fall for all of them.

If I could bring myself to arrest him.

I looked up into the indigo eyes, shaking my head helplessly. "I'd have lied my ass off to Wufei and anyone else who asked," I told him frankly. "Nothing can bring Meilan back. And nothing could make me let you be punished for her death."

He looked at me with a searching gaze. "You'd forgive me a murder?" he asked incredulously.

It was my turn to look away uncomfortably. "I'd forgive you anything," I admitted in a whisper.

The next thing I knew he was in my arms, his face pressed against my shoulder as he clung tightly to my waist. "_Goddamn_, I don't deserve you!" he said hoarsely, in a show of emotion I attributed to the liquor he'd consumed so recently.

We ended up on the floor of the bathroom, with him in my lap and the comforter pulled around both of us as he poured out the rest of the story.

"I told you before that I was in love with Solo, right?"

I nodded, feeling a familiar twinge of jealousy. "And was it mutual?"

"Yeah, I guess. Not that we ever—. I mean, he knew what had happened to me, and he took things slow. We never even had sex—not really—just made out a little." He gave a rather wicked smirk. "Okay—a _lot_. An' he taught me to give a blowjob that'll melt the knees right out from under ya."

"No shit." God, I remembered how _that _felt.

Duo shifted on my lap, and my body reacted automatically, drawing a husky laugh from my lover. "Should I—take care of something—before I continue?" he teased.

"Just finish the story," I said through clenched teeth.

"Well—before Solo and I—consummated the relationship, he met a pretty little uptown Chinese girl and fell head over heels for her."

"Meilan."

He nodded, his face somber.

"He dumped you for her?" I guessed.

"Yeah," he said bitterly.

"And what about the drive-by?" I asked, trying not to let my naturally suspicious nature make me ask the obvious question—one I knew would hurt my lover.

But he seemed to know what flashed through my mind. "Wondering if I was jealous enough to want her dead?"

"I know you better than that," I said firmly.

He gave a wistful smile. "No matter how much I wanted Solo back, I'd never have hurt her to get it."

"Do you think I ever doubted that?" I demanded, pulling him a little closer.

"No," he admitted, with a soft chuckle. "Sucker," he added fondly.

"Only for you," I assured him, nuzzling the side of his neck, until he squirmed and gasped. "Now—how'd the shooting happen?"

"Oh, not fair," he breathed. "You turn my brains to mush and then start interrogating me?"

"They teach it at the academy," I said with a teasing grin.

"Hm. Anyhow—the shooting—it was a rival gang, trying to nail Solo. Meilan being there—it was just bad luck," he said wearily. "We went over an' over it—but everything happened so fast, there was no way we could've seen it coming."

"You need to tell Wufei," I said quietly.

Duo looked up at me quickly—sharply. "Why?"

"C'mon, Duo—he's got to be wondering what made you bolt for the bathroom."

"Can't we just tell him I drank too much scotch?" came the hopeful reply.

I gave my lover a stern look. "Listen to me. This has been a sore point with Chang all along. Maybe he needs to see it from your perspective—to hear what you have to tell him. Maybe it will give him some closure."

"And maybe he'll hate me even more."

I shook my head. "Not 'Fei," I assured him. "He already likes you—you know that. It's just that sometimes his ingrained hatred for gang bangers gets the best of him, and he can't help but throw a little spite your way." I rubbed his back soothingly. "You two both lost something, Duo. Maybe talking about it will bring you closer; mend that rift you started out with…"

He sighed deeply. "Have it your way, Yuy. But if he kills me, don't say I didn't warn you!"

I chuckled, helping Duo up, and then gathering him in my arms to carry him back out to the living room.

"Hey!" he protested. "I c'n walk, y'know."

"You're to stay off that foot," I reminded him, maneuvering us around the door in the close quarters, and out into the hallway. "Besides, I like having you helpless in my arms."

He snorted wryly. "Helpless? Me?"

I nuzzled his neck, and he went limp, moaning quietly. "O-kay," he sighed. "Helpless."

Smirking, I carried him out and laid him back on the couch, catching a questioning look from Chang, as he set a bowl of soup down on the coffee table.

"I brought out that food I mentioned," he said, eyeing Duo rather warily. "Feeling better?"

Duo nodded, looking a bit sheepish as he arranged his blanket around himself. "I wasn't sick, 'Fei."

My partner cocked his head.

"Sit, Chang," I said firmly, gesturing him to the chair at one end of the couch. He settled into it, and I looked back at Duo. "Go ahead," I urged.

He edged over so he was up against one armrest, turning to face my partner, still looking a bit hesitant. And then he gave a frustrated huff, his indigo eyes somber. "Okay, Chang," he blurted without preamble. "You were straight with me—finally. An' it's time for me to return the favor."

Wufei raised an eyebrow, his face guarded. "Does this have to do with why you ran out on my story?"

Yeah, his detective's mind was working overtime. Now that he'd set aside his obliviousness about my sexual orientation, nothing was going to get past him.

Duo nodded, swallowing hard.

Chang's dark eyes narrowed. "I swear to God, Maxwell, if you tell me your gang had something to do with Meilan's death—."

"Chang!" I said sharply, glaring at my partner. "Hear him out before you jump to conclusions. Duo had nothing to do with killing Meilan."

His taut posture relaxed just a little, though his hands were gripped tightly on the armrests of the chair. "Go ahead then, Maxwell."

"I—." Duo faltered, glancing at me for reassurance.

"Go on," I urged. "You both need to get it all out of your system."

He nodded, turning back to Wufei. "I was the one Solo dumped for Meilan," he blurted quickly, as if afraid of losing his nerve.

Wufei didn't say anything, though his jaw tightened fractionally.

Duo looked at me as if to ask what to say next.

"Wufei?" I prompted carefully.

He gave a slight shake of his head. "Are you sure we're talking about the same people?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Duo assured him, gaining confidence from Chang's mild tone. "I was with the Reapers; Solo was our leader. We'd been boyfriends maybe a year or so when he met a pretty Chinese girl and fell head over heels—dumped me an' took up with her."

"She ran away from home," Wufei said quietly. "She ran away from me, too." His dark eyes fixed accusingly on Duo, who held up his hands in denial.

"Don't blame me, 'Fei! D'you think I liked it that she stole my boyfriend?"

"At least she didn't get _him _killed!" Wufei blurted.

"Might as well have!" Duo shot back, his own temper flaring. "He was never the same after she died."

That simple statement seemed to take the wind right out of Chang's sails. He sank back against the seat, blowing out a deep, sorrowful breath, and raised a tortured gaze to Duo. "So…he really loved her?"

"Shit, yes," Duo said bitterly. "He fuckin' worshiped the ground she walked on."

"Did he know she was pregnant?"

Duo's expression darkened. "Yeah, we _all _did. You'd have thought it was the second coming of Christ the way Solo carried on about it…about what he was gonna do for her an' the baby…how he'd have to leave the gang and find a job that would provide something for them." His eyes were a little too bright, and he blinked them rapidly. "All the time I knew him—loved him—an' he never talked about making a life for _us _outside the gang. _She _comes along an' all of a sudden he wants better things outta life than 'livin' in a warehouse an' eating out of dumpsters.'" A bitter smile twisted his lips. "But then, she wasn't 'gutter trash,' was she?"

Wufei's jaw dropped as he recognized his own term for Duo thrown back in his face. "When I called you that, Maxwell, I had nothing to go on but what your rap sheet said." He squared his shoulders slightly, raising his chin. "All I knew of gang members and people with rap sheets like yours was that I'd had my happiness stolen by them. I was angry…angry that your—friend—took Meilan…angry that being at his side was what cost her life…angry that she was left to die alone on the street…"

Duo shook his head. "She wasn't _left_, 'Fei. And she didn't die alone. Near as I could tell in all the chaos, the first shot ended it. We had to drag Solo away before the cops—."

"You were there?" Wufei demanded, half-rising from his seat.

"Yeah, I was there!" came Duo's equally heated reply.

I think Wufei still wanted someone to blame, because his eyes narrowed accusingly. "So why didn't you _do _something to stop it? Why didn't _anyone _stop it? Or try to protect her? Or at least stay until the paramedics arrived?" His hands clenched convulsively. "Or were you just glad the competition was out of your way?"

I tried to stop them, before things could escalate. "Look, Chang. It was a rival gang—."

Duo interrupted me and got right in Chang's face. "Don't you fuckin' accuse me of shit like that! No one could've saved Meilan. It all happened so fast there was no time to react until after the fact." His eyes were suspiciously bright. "D'you think it doesn't bother me to know it should've been me? If I'd been beside Solo—if his arm had been around _me_, instead of her—."

"I wish it _had_—." Wufei cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head. "No—that's not—."

But Duo gave a shrug, dashing at his eyes as if willing the tears away. "Go ahead an' say it, 'Fei. Solo did."

"Shit!" I blurted, unable to keep from grabbing him and pulling him into my arms. "He was a fool, Duo!"

How could he have ever said something so cruel—and to the man I loved?

Duo just clung to my shirt, trembling a little at the bleak memories.

I felt a touch on my arm, and looked up at Wufei, who gestured to Duo. "Let me?" he asked. "I think—I need this." He took my place at Duo's side, and the braided man buried his face in the offered shoulder, choking back the sobs that tried to escape.

"Hush," soothed my partner, his voice uncharacteristically tender. "That was a long time ago," he pointed out. "And I'm sure Solo didn't really mean what he said. He was grieving…and he was foolish."

Duo nodded, seeming to regain a little of his composure. "Told you how much she meant to him—," he muttered, surreptitiously drying his eyes on the corner of his blanket—or maybe it was Chang's collar. "Dunno why it still gets to me—."

"If you hadn't downed half a bottle of scotch, I'm sure it wouldn't have," Wufei said kindly. His own eyes were a bit teary. "I have no such excuse."

Duo flung his arms around my partner. "Sure ya do," he said warmly. "You lost just as much—."

"Then perhaps—we have a lot more in common than we thought?" Wufei hazarded.

"Yeah, maybe."

"We'll have to talk more and figure that out, won't we?" came the firm reply.

"Y'really wanna associate with street trash?" teased Duo.

"You aren't, and even if you were, the answer would have to be 'yes.'"

The smile my lover gave Wufei was brilliant and genuine. "Yeah, you're okay, Chang."

"So are you, Maxwell. So are you."

I glanced up in time to see Catherine leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, her rapt attention on the two on the couch. She gave me a small, sad smile and turned back into the kitchen, making a gesture for me to follow.

"Um—I'll go bring out more soup," I offered. "We can all eat in here." I left Wufei and Duo still settling into their newfound understanding, and followed the girl on crutches.

She was at the counter, already starting to fill up more bowls.

"How much of that did you hear?" I asked, walking over to get a tray for the bowls.

"Enough." She gave me a sidelong glance. "I could certainly guess that your stiff-necked partner and Duo have had a rather adversarial relationship."

I gave a wry snort, feeling no need to elaborate.

"But I'd never have figured out how closely their pasts were connected," she added. "I think it's good that they finally aired everything out. Now maybe they can move forward with more mutual respect."

"I certainly hope so." I put a bowl of biscuits on the tray to go along with the soup, and then decided the girl deserved fair warning about my partner. "Catherine—if you're planning to discuss any of what you overheard with Wufei, I'd tread lightly. He's not overly forthcoming with personal information."

She just gave me a patient smile. "He is if it's properly coaxed," she told me cryptically. "We talked quite a bit on the way to the grocery store this morning and the clinic this afternoon…though he didn't share anything quite as intense as what I just heard." She maneuvered her crutches back under her arms. "Don't worry—I won't pry into his personal life unless he volunteers information. And, who knows? We may have more in common than he realizes."

"That would be nice." I honestly hoped they did find common ground. Even if Catherine didn't become the love of Chang's life, God knew he could use more good and understanding friends. She certainly seemed to be that, to both Duo and Trowa, and I had no doubt she'd offer the same to Wufei.

On the other hand, having discovered true love and knowing how it had changed my life forever, deep down inside I hoped my friend and colleague would find the same.


	43. Understandings

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Three: Understandings

When Catherine and I took the soup out to the living room, Duo and Wufei were seated opposite each other again, as if they hadn't just shared some Earth-shattering revelations.

Chang even managed a bland smile for Catherine, standing to pull out a chair for her.

I slid into the one closest to Duo. "How's the foot now?" I asked quietly, reaching to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He leaned into the touch, managing a cocky little grin. "Not so bad," he assured me, digging into his soup with enough enthusiasm to set my mind at ease.

Of course, after the quick meal, his rough day caught up to him, and Duo was huddled in his blanket snoring before the rest of us had even finished cleaning up the dishes and putting things away.

I tucked the blanket in around him a bit tighter, and walked over to check on the laptop security logs, realizing in all the excitement, we'd pretty much neglected our usual routine. Sloppy police work—and if Duo had been harmed as a result, I knew I'd never have forgiven myself.

I could feel the scowl settling on my face as I keyed up the day's records. Already I was going over in my mind how many details I'd overlooked and how disastrous the results could have been. We hadn't checked in with Po in days…we were completely on our own…and I'd spent the day playing on the beach with Duo, instead of safeguarding his life.

"It was a hectic afternoon," came a quiet voice so close behind me I gave a start.

"Jesus, Chang! Make some noise when you walk!"

I heard a soft chuckle and looked back up at my partner, whose dark eyes glimmered with amusement. "If I did, it would reflect poorly on my martial arts training, now wouldn't it?"

"It would also save my nerves," I grumbled, returning my attention to the tapes.

"You're irritated with yourself, aren't you?" asked Wufei, circling around and leaning on the edge of the table, his arms crossed and a calculating look on his face.

"For what?" I asked with a hint of bitterness. "Getting so caught up in Duo that I neglected my job most of the day? Letting him get injured? Allowing us to be out on that beach in an exposed position? Forgetting our usual security protocols? Take your pick, Chang. Yeah, I'm irritated with myself."

He shook his head. "Let it go, Yuy. There's no harm done."

"Ten stitches is no harm—?"

"He'll have a sore foot for a few days. In the grand scheme of things, that's not a big deal. He's alive. What's more, he was enjoying himself today—at least from what I gleaned of the situation." A smirk touched the corners of his mouth. "By the way, you've got seaweed in your hair."

I put a hand to my unruly locks, and sure enough, there was still a bit of the stuff clinging to the back of my head. "Shit." I picked out a strand of bubble weed, and rubbed it between two fingers, wistfully recalling the look on Duo's face after he threw it and just before I took off after him.

"See?" Wufei said quietly. "Wasn't it worth it to let him forget about the danger for a little while? I can tell by the look on your face, you enjoyed your time on the beach as well."

"But what if—?"

"Ah, you see—that's the beauty of it, Yuy. You already know the outcome. So stop torturing yourself with 'what ifs' and just be relieved he's okay, and get our security back up to par. We'll do better from now on."

"Since when are you the one easing _my_ conscience?" I asked.

"Since you did it for me when I was careless enough to fall asleep during my watch. And you never harassed me about getting treed by a bear." He shrugged, looking much more boyish and relaxed than I was used to seeing. "That's what partners are for."

I finally gave a genuine smile. "I suppose so." I glanced past him through the window to see Catherine out on the back porch watching the sunset, and my smile gave way to a wicked smirk. "In the interest of being a good partner, I think I'll insist that you take a break and go watch that sunset."

He followed my gaze to the girl, and then looked back sharply, mouth open for a stinging retort.

"It _is _our job to ensure her safety, too," I reminded him.

The dark eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to set me up?"

"Not at all. I'm just providing an excuse—in case you think you need one."

He snorted derisively. "I don't need an excuse."

"Good. Then get to it," I suggested, turning my attention back to the screen and ignoring the frustrated huff I heard.

A moment later, he got up and wandered out through the kitchen towards the back porch, and when I peeked over the laptop screen a bit later, he was leaning on the railing next to Catherine.

_Go Chang!_

I worked until it was almost dark, and then satisfied with the security logs, I set the computer back to automatic and stood up and stretched. Despite trying not to spy on my partner, I did notice Wufei and Catherine were now sitting on the porch swing, apparently deep in conversation. The light from the kitchen window barely illuminated the two, but it was pretty apparent they were enjoying each other's company.

I was relieved for a number of reasons. First off, it made me feel less guilty for my involvement with Duo. Our relationship had sort of forced Chang into the position of third wheel, and had made me feel an odd detachment from a man I'd trusted my life to on more than one occasion. Knowing that he could be just as human, and find his own form of friendship amid our precarious situation let me off the hook a bit for falling head over heels.

Plus, it made the cozy house by the sea feel downright homey. I had a hunch the four of us could work together very nicely, to keep the place safe until such time as the trial began and we had to face reality again.

While mulling all that over, I found myself wandering into the living room and settling into the chair by Duo to watch him sleep. It was an occupation I didn't think I'd never tire of.

"Mm—how long was I out?" he rasped hoarsely, blinking awake and fixing a quizzical look on me.

"Couple of hours." I reached to brush his bangs from his forehead. "How d'you feel?"

"Aside from a throbbing foot, just fine." He sat up, the blanket slipping from his shoulder to reveal the tattoo I'd become so familiar with.

My hand reached of its own volition to trace lightly down the stylized wings on the Grim Reaper, and Duo's eyes closed and he practically purred at the sensation.

"Jesus, Yuy," he whispered. "When you do things like that—." He shook his head and opened his eyes to look into mine.

"What?"

"It just—it feels—nice," he said haltingly. "Like, I dunno—almost like you can't believe I'm real."

"I can't," I sighed. "Meeting you—being with you—has been like one long, drawn-out dream. I'd never have thought in a million years someone like you would want someone like me."

He grinned cheekily, regaining his composure quickly. "Ditto here."

I found myself smiling back, realizing it must be just as surreal from his perspective. "Actually, I wasn't referring to the obvious difference in occupations. I was talking about someone so—alive and sensual and bold—wanting a serious workaholic type like me."

"But you aren't!" he argued, edging closer. "Shit, Yuy—you're so damned sexy an' strong—you don't know what a turn-on that is. I'm surprised you didn't have guys panting at your heels your whole life." A trace of insecurity entered the half-lidded eyes, and I realized he was fishing.

"Before you, Maxwell, I had all of two serious boyfriends. They both decided I was more focused on my work than on them, and frankly, they were right. Neither one of them made me feel the way you do."

He blushed and ducked his head, obviously pleased with my answer. "Wanna know a secret? Nobody—not Tro' and not Zechs—ever felt so—right for me."

I had him pressed against the back of the couch in a heartbeat, trying to devour his lips with mine as I slid a hand down under the comforter.

He moaned into the kiss, arching into my touch and making me feel like we were the first two people to ever discover sex. God, he was amazing!

I let him up for air, leaving my hand tracing lazily across his abs. "I take it that felt right?"

"Fuckin' perfect," he sighed breathlessly.

"Maybe I should take you to bed—get you settled in for the night," I suggested, with ulterior motives that would have been obvious to a nun.

"Yeah, I think you should." He started to sit up, and turned a wary glance towards the other room. "Hey—where's our chaperone anyway?"

"Wufei?" I smirked mysteriously. "I last saw him on the porch swing with Catherine. I think they were watching the sunset."

He eyed the darkness outside the windows. "Been out there awhile, have they?"

"Don't worry," I soothed. "Chang's a gentleman. He'd never take advantage—."

"No—I know," he replied, looking pensive. "Matter of fact, I was thinkin' maybe we oughta hook those two up. Y'know, Cathy was married once—a guy in the circus—high-wire performer. But he took a bad fall, less than a year after they got hitched. He didn't make it." He wore a rather somber expression. "She was really broken up about it—for a long, long time. Bet she'd understand what makes 'Fei tick."

"She might at that," I conceded.

I stood and stretched. "I'm going to tell Chang I'm putting you to bed, and that he's on watch for a few hours while I get some rest."

"Think he'll believe that?" smirked my lover.

"I know he will," I said with a frank look. "I'm fuckin' exhausted, Duo. I really intend to just sleep—for now."

_Well, at least if I __could__ sleep with him curled up next to me naked._

He pouted beautifully, and then spoiled it by yawning. "Maybe ya got a point…"

I left him finishing the glass of juice he'd left untouched earlier when he nodded off right after his soup, and headed through the kitchen, padding quietly across the old wood floor.

As I got to the doorway, I picked up the sound of quiet voices.

"…was sorry to hear about your…Meilan…"

I paused in the shadows there, watching Wufei's shoulders stiffen. "It was a long time ago. And it's—personal. I'd rather not talk about it."

"I know," she replied, as if she really _did_ know. "I didn't talk about Nate for years after the accident. I got pretty hysterical if anyone even brought up the subject."

Wufei turned to regard her warily. "And Nate was—?"

"My husband," she said quietly. "He was a high-wire performer. We got married at eighteen."

"Oh." My partner frowned deeply. "I take it he—he—."

"Died? Yes. In a fall during a practice session."

"I'm sorry," Wufei said quickly. "If you'd rather I not intrude on your memories—."

"No—that's okay. It's good to talk to someone who's been through a similar—loss." She reached out and boldly took hold of his hand. "It feels like you really _do _understand."

He nodded, and I suspected he was a bit choked up. His voice, when he spoke again, was husky. "How did you manage?"

"Oh, it wasn't easy." She turned wide, tragic eyes to him. "I haven't really even dated anyone since—."

"Me neither," he admitted. "There was one girl I asked out—but she was more interested in my partner than me."

_Relena _was the only one he'd asked out since Meilan? No wonder he resented her for going after gay guys!

"Your partner? Yuy? The one who's head over heels for Duo? _That _Yuy?"

Fuck. Was I _that_ obvious?

On second thought, I suppose I was.

"Yes, _that _Yuy," Wufei sighed.

Catherine shook her head, laughing quietly. "She was a fool."

My partner must have stared at her for a full minute before he recovered enough to speak. "Why—thank you." He managed to sound flustered, flattered, and hopeful, all at once.

Funny, but when _I'd_ told him Relena was an idiot to turn him down, I hadn't gotten that reaction at all.

"If I'm not being too presumptuous," he continued. "I'd like to think when this is all done and Duo's safety has been secured, maybe you and I could still see each other and stay—friends?"

"Perhaps even more." She smiled shyly.

"I'd—like that," he said, also smiling.

Her hand was still holding Wufei's, and I noticed they'd linked their fingers together. "So would I," she assured him. "You're an intriguing man, Chang Wufei."

_Oh, she even got the name right!_

"And you, Catherine Bloom, are a most impressive woman…independence of spirit is a very attractive trait."

"As is chivalry," she said with a warm smile.

I had edged back into the kitchen, trying not to betray my presence, or the fact that I'd overheard far more than I had a right to. And now I withdrew almost to the doorway into the living room, flipping on the overhead lights, and making sure my steps rang loudly on the floor as I deliberately made my way back towards them.

"Chang? Still out there?" I asked brusquely, trying to sound like I was all business.

"Yes, we are," Catherine sang out.

I noticed they weren't holding hands when I made my official entrance. "Just wanted to let you know, Duo woke up, and I think I'll send him to bed before he nods off again. He needs rest."

Wufei eyed me calculatingly. "So do you," he pointed out.

"I was going to ask you to stand watch for a few hours so I could sleep," I agreed.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I swear to you, Chang, I have no intention of doing anything but sleeping," I chided, managing an insulted look. "You know as well as I do, that Duo's safety is our utmost concern. I damn well care enough to do what's best for him."

He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Very well. Is the laptop set to monitor?"

"It's on automatic. Give it a once-over every hour or so, and it should be fine."

As I turned to leave, I heard Catherine offering to make a fresh pot of coffee and keep Wufei company during his "guard duty." I didn't stick around to hear him agree, but I was sure he would.

Duo had gotten up off the couch and was wrapped in the comforter, hobbling towards the kitchen with his empty glass when I found him.

"Would you take it easy?" I chided, taking the glass and setting it in the sink. "I think you should stay off that foot—keep it elevated."

He gave me a perfectly lascivious leer. "Why that sounds suspiciously like a come-on, Yuy."

"I didn't mean—." Of course, an image of him with his feet raised, and his body bent beneath me flashed across my mind, and I couldn't even finish my sentence.

"Yeah, I'll keep it _elevated_ all right," he offered in a suggestive purr. "C'mon and help me to bed, lover."

I shook free of my stupor, and took a deep breath to regain my poise. "I'll help you to bed," I promised. "But you're going to sleep, Maxwell, just sleep."

"After."

I sighed at his persistence, hating my body for its predictable reaction to his advances. And just to keep him off balance for a moment, I swept him off his feet and began carrying him down the hall. "When I tell you to stay off that foot, I mean it," I scolded.

"Make me," he purred against my neck, nibbling teasingly.

We did get to sleep—eventually.

* * *

When I woke to sunlight streaming in the window, I realized Chang had let me sleep all night. And while I'd needed the rest, I felt a sharp pang of guilt, knowing he'd gotten none.

My restless shifting drew an immediate response from Duo, who was once again wrapped around me.

"Aw—mornin' already?" he slurred drowsily.

"Yes, but you don't have to get up," I replied, enjoying an extra moment or two of snuggling. "I should relieve Chang, though."

"He an' Cathy prob'ly talked all night," my lover pointed out, throwing a leg over mine. "Don't be in such a rush to leave."

"Duo, I'd love nothing more than to stay here all day," I sighed. "But I'm still responsible for security—and I need to spell my partner, so he can rest."

"Boy Scout," he grumbled, burying his face between my neck and shoulder and nibbling at the juncture of the two.

"Ohhh—," I groaned. "C'mon, love. That's not fair!"

"All's fair," he breathed against my skin, eliciting a shiver of sheer pleasure.

The sound of a telephone ringing somewhere down the hall startled us apart.

"Shit—I should get that," I said quickly, wondering who'd be calling. After all, even Captain Po didn't have the number.

The phone stopped after the second or third ring, and I faintly heard Catherine's voice.

"Probably circus shit," Duo hazarded, rolling away from me and stretching languidly. "Ow."

"I take it your foot hurts."

"No shit." He raised a long, lean, perfectly delicious-looking leg from beneath the blankets, and examined his bandaged foot. "Not as bad as I thought it would," he conceded, wriggling his gauze-covered toes experimentally.

"Good." I leaned to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "You can hobble to the kitchen on your own then." I ducked out of bed, grabbing my clothes off the chair and donning them quickly.

"Hey!" he protested. "Where ya goin'?"

"To see who called." I couldn't shake a hint of unease at the intrusion.

"Yuy—."

"Meet you in the kitchen," I threw over my shoulder, not daring to look back at his nude, blanket-draped form as I exited the room.

I found Catherine just hanging up the phone, and she turned with a smile. "Perfect timing! That was Trowa, and he said he'd like you not to shoot him when he drives up."

"He's coming here?"

"He's _here_," she corrected me. "But he decided to stop at the foot of the shore road and call, in case you have a—um—'perimeter' set up?" She gave me a rather cute look of puzzled interest.

At that moment the laptop sounded an alert, and Chang came boiling out of the kitchen, his hand on his gun. He stopped at the sight of Catherine and me standing calmly in the hallway.

"Yuy?"

"Relax. Apparently our decoys have arrived," I smirked. "I'll go tell Duo, and hit the john—then you can rest awhile."

He shrugged. "I actually haven't felt fatigued," he told me. "Catherine is a wonderful conversationalist—the time flew past."

"Then you both deserve some down time," I pointed out.

"After breakfast," Catherine said firmly, heading for the kitchen on her crutches.

Before I could go retrieve Duo, he came limping down the hallway, still sleep-mussed, shirtless, and sexy as hell. "Did I hear the word 'breakfast'?"

"You did," Wufei told him. "And apparently Barton and Winner will be arriving momentarily."

Duo lit up like a Christmas tree. "No shit? That's great!" He altered his course towards the front door and I hastened to intercept him.

"Let me get it!" I ordered a bit too sharply. I caught myself at the faintly stung expression on his face. "As a precaution," I told him firmly. "What if they were followed—or coerced into bringing along an unwanted passenger—?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of a car door slamming and footsteps running up the porch steps interrupted him.

When the door was flung open, I already had my gun out and aimed—only to see Barton freeze in mid-stride.

"I thought I told Cathy to be sure you didn't shoot me," he groused.

In the next instant it would have been irrelevant, since Duo limped quickly past me and threw his arms around his ex, effectively placing himself directly in the line of fire.

"Duo!" My exasperated huff came out as more of a plaintive whine as Trowa's arms slipped around his waist.

Triumphant green eyes shot me a sly look over Duo's shoulder.

"He can't stay in the way forever," I cautioned the smug stripper.

Duo turned to face me, and then his glance flicked from my scowl to Trowa's teasing smirk and back. "Aw, 'Ro," he chided, pushing my gun hand aside and down towards the floor so he could press up against me, making full body contact. "No contest, love. I'm all yours. Forever."

My breath caught at the sultry purr in his voice, and I slipped my free arm around his waist. "Promise?"

"I promise," he whispered solemnly.

Catherine showed up in the midst of our greeting, sliding past us to hug Trowa herself. "I'm so glad you're okay!" she said vehemently. "When they told me what was going on—."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Never a worry!" He glanced past her to Duo. "Um, can't say the same for your bike, Shini. Sorry."

"What?!" Duo whirled to face him. "What did you do to my bike?" he demanded.

"Casualty of war?" Trowa offered hesitantly.

"I want the whole story," I interrupted, gesturing towards the kitchen with my gun, before realizing what I was doing. I blushed and hastily holstered it after I noticed Catherine and Wufei had ducked aside. "Sorry."

Duo snickered and grabbed my hand to lead me to the kitchen. "C'mon, 'Ro. I'm starved!" He paused then, frowning and looking back at the door of the farmhouse, and then at Trowa. "Hey, where's Quat?"

"By now he should be back at the precinct, meeting with the Captain to work out strategy," replied the auburn-haired man. "I'm only stopping here to tell you guys the plan, and then I'll head back to the circus."

"Sounds like you have a bit of explaining to do," I spoke up, as we made our way to the kitchen and found places around the table, while Wufei and Catherine started breakfast.

"So do you," Trowa riposted, his gaze dropping to Duo's bandaged foot.

"Casualty of glass," Duo quipped with a vague grimace. "Wasn't Yuy's fault, love."

"He's responsible for your health and well-being."

"Ah—technically, all I have to do is produce him at the trial _alive_," I pointed out in my own defense.

Trowa snorted derisively. "Thought he was more than a job t'you, detective."

I glared back at him. "He is!"

"Look—boys," Duo interrupted in a placating tone, a rather satisfied smirk on his lips. "While all this fighting over me is real flattering, I'd kinda like to move on to what the _hell _happened to my bike!"

Trowa looked chastened, and I merely rolled my eyes. "We weren't fighting over you," I mumbled defensively.

"Tro'? How 'bout my bike?"

"Yeah, well…when Quatre and I took off, there were these guys in SUVs after us."

"Us, too," Duo acknowledged. "But we lost 'em when we took to the water."

"We weren't as lucky," Trowa told him. "They dogged us through the woods until the trees got thick enough to stop them. But meanwhile, they'd managed to score a few shots, and we sort of developed a fuel leak and some engine sputters. We managed to get a couple of miles of a lead, and then when the bike started smoking, we had to ditch it."

"Ditch it?" Duo asked warily.

"Literally," Trowa admitted. "It slid in loose sand, and we bailed. It ended up in a ravine, where it sort of—exploded."

"Exploded?!" Duo squeaked in horror.

"Jesus, Maxwell!" Wufei exclaimed, turning sharply from his place at the stove. "Forget the damned motorcycle already!" He turned a concerned gaze to Trowa. "Were you and Winner injured?"

"Scrapes and scuffs. That's all."

Duo had the grace to look a bit ashamed. "I didn't mean to imply that I was only worried about the bike," he insisted. "Tro' and Quat are way more important to me!" He glared sullenly at my partner. "Just…it's obvious Trowa's okay, and he'd have said if Quatre was hurt…so I'm allowed to mourn the passing of a really fine crotch rocket, aren't I?"

Trowa chuckled, reaching across to stroke light fingers down Duo's cheek in a gesture I had to fight not to resent. "Sure you are," he said soothingly. "And honestly, Quatre offered to replace your baby for you."

"Naw," Duo said with a wistful smile. "I don't even know if I'll have a place for one after relocation an' shit."

"So—if you were on foot, how did you and Winner escape?" I asked, eager for more details.

"Well, Quatre knows those woods like the back of his hand. He spent lots of vacation time there as a kid. So we hid in some caves overnight, and when the bad guys finally found the entrance the next morning, Quatre led me through tunnels and out the other side. We came out near a highway, hitched a ride to town, rented a car and headed south—just until we hit civilization. Then we stopped at a motel, changed our clothes and lost the braid. We switched cars at another rental place and headed for another Winner hideout, and that's where we spent the last couple of days."

Duo's eyes had widened at the mention of caves and tunnels and elaborate maneuvers to change cars and appearances. "Wow—you guys went through some Hell, didn't ya?" He gave a whistle between his teeth. "Hiking…climbing around in caves…Quat's a lot tougher than he looks, isn't he?"

Trowa smirked affectionately. "Y'got that right. He's a lot more than just a shrewd lawyer."

As true as that might be, I couldn't help but recall the times I'd seen the blonde in action in the courtroom, and reflect on just _how _shrewd he really was. He was nothing less than brilliant. "Barton—you really _have _to attend a trial sometime, and see Winner in action. Trust me—he's as tough inside the courtroom as outside it."

_Was that a hint of jealousy that raced across Duo's face?_ _Good!_ It was about time he knew how I felt when he traded those warm looks with Barton.

Wufei turned from stirring up pancake batter. "So when you made it to Winner property, I take it that's when you dreamed up whatever plan you're in the middle of executing."

Trowa nodded. "Quatre decided I should go to the circus, while he went back to the city. He can coordinate with Captain Po, call me at the circus, and have me contact you guys here. There's no way the FBI or anyone else would catch on to the flow of information, because it's perfectly normal for me to be at the circus and calling Catherine at fairly regular intervals."

"Are you sure Winner made it to the city safely?"

"He called my cell phone from the parking lot there—just a single ring to let me know he'd arrived." The relief on Barton's face was obvious—almost as obvious as his attachment to the handsome lawyer.

"So we're staying put here?" Duo noted. "Great! This place is awesome."

I saw the glance that passed from Wufei to Catherine and hid my own smile at the fact that Duo wasn't the only one elated by the plan.

"After breakfast, I can show you the beach, Tro'!"

"Not on that foot!" Wufei and I said in unison, sharing sheepish looks afterwards.

"Seriously, Duo," I said more gently. "You can't be hopping around and risking putting weight on it today. You should stay in the house and relax."

"Besides," Trowa spoke up. "I've seen the beach before, love. And I should hit the road by noontime, if I'm going to meet up with the circus at their next stop."

"But, you just got here, and—." Duo bit it off sharply, frowning and looking down at the floor. "Yeah, fine—whatever," he mumbled.

I thought maybe I knew where his sudden discomfort originated, and I slid my chair closer to his. "I know you'd like to spend time with Trowa," I said with as much understanding as I could muster. "After all, he's your best friend, and you've been stuck with two anal-retentive cops for days now."

"That's not—," he began, looking up sharply.

I held up a hand to silence him. "It's okay," I assured him. "You're allowed to have friends, Duo. But even Trowa knows that keeping you safe and alive is even more important than you two having time to hang out together, y'know?"

He nodded, looking up at me from under his bangs. And it amazed me that I could read him well enough to know that he'd been afraid I'd be resentful of his wanting time with Trowa.

Truth be told, I _was_ a tiny bit resentful—or maybe envious—of the closeness they still shared. But I also knew that if I let myself feel that way, it would only push Duo away from me. He had so much history with Barton that it was fairly useless to resent their intimacy. And if Duo thought I did, it would only make him think I didn't trust him.

"When we get back to the city for the trial, you'll have a chance to see each other, I'm sure."

Duo flashed me a grateful smile. "That'd be good."

I reached to squeeze his hand reassuringly, and then got up and headed for Chang's side. "Why don't you let me take over?" I suggested, taking the spatula from his hand, and eyeing the sizzling pancakes. "You and Catherine should eat first, so you can go get some rest."

He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, and speared a couple of the finished pancakes off a dish on the counter, making a plate for Catherine, and one for himself. While they ate, Duo began telling Trowa about our own harrowing escape across the lake, complete with sound effects and expansive gestures.

He glossed over his own actions, elaborating instead on how well Chang and I had worked as a team, and what exceptional shots we both were. And his vivid description of the airborne speed boat was far more impressive than the actual event had been.

By the time he had us racing through the forest on ATVs, Wufei and Catherine both excused themselves, complimenting his storytelling technique, before heading for their respective rooms.

Trowa laughed at all the right places, shook his head in disbelief a time or two, and made open-mouthed expressions of awe at appropriate events, while I just drank in the sound of Duo's voice. The tone as he described the brief visit to Howard's was warm with affection, and then when he related how we'd procured a hotel room in the sleazy part of town, it slipped into a harsher, cooler sound, only to fill with wonder as he described seeing the ocean for the first time.

I could have listened to him talk forever, and never tired of the sound of his voice; and that was just one of a million reasons I was determined to find a way to keep him in my life after the trial.


	44. Acceleration

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

And I apologize for the long delay—life has been kicking my ass. I'll try to do better.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Four: Acceleration

Duo took Trowa's departure remarkably well. The auburn-haired man insisted on heading out just a couple of hours after breakfast. But at least he and Duo had time to sit out on the porch swing and talk privately while I took care of the dishes.

I didn't eavesdrop, for once in my life, though it was hard not to. I wanted to know what they talked about in the worst way. But after Duo had said that what he and I had together felt more "right" than his previous relationships, I felt like I had to live up to his image of me. I needed to prove to him that I could be secure about the feelings we shared.

So I ran the water and set about scrubbing and rinsing the dishes to drown out even snatches of conversation from the nearby porch. With the window and door closed, all it took was a little rattling and sloshing to insure there'd be no chance of overhearing a word.

When the two finally came back inside, Duo hobbled straight over to me and slipped his arms around my waist in a tight hug.

I paused, holding a dishrag in one hand and a plate in the other. "Um, Duo—?"

He looked up at me with an impish grin. "Don't think I didn't notice," he said cryptically, before claiming my mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss, that made me want to grab him and drag him off to the bedroom…or the couch…or, fuck it, the _floor_!

I pried one eye open as he slowly drew back, keeping his lips within easy reach, and I caught an amused look from Barton.

"I'll just let myself out then," he joked, starting for the hallway.

Duo pulled back slightly, though he kept his arms around me and glanced over his shoulder at his former lover. "Thanks for listening, Tro'."

"Yeah, you too," teased the green-eyed man. He gave me a small smile and a slight nod. "You take very, very good care of him."

"I will," I said evenly, allowing myself a smug little smirk of my own. "And I'll even get him to the trial alive and well, too."

Duo turned a smoldering look my way. "Aw, baby—I think I need a demonstration of how you'll 'take care' of me."

"Maybe after Barton leaves," I suggested, nodding towards his friend. "Why don't you walk him out while I put away the last of the dishes, hm?"

"Yeah—be right back." Duo eased away slowly, allowing his hands to slide caressingly along my arms until he finally had to let go completely. And then with a devilish wink, he turned and limped over to escort Trowa out.

I put away the dishes in record time, joining Duo in the doorway as Barton started up his car and drove off.

I'd come up behind him, and slipped my arms around his waist, only to have him lean comfortably back against me, sort of nestling his ass against my groin.

"Did you and Trowa have a nice visit, even if it was short?" I asked, nuzzling his hair, and breathing in the warm scent of his shampoo and the salty sea air.

"Yeah, we did." Duo turned his head to look sideways at me. "He's really serious about Quat, y'know."

"I'd sort of gotten that impression," I said dryly.

"Naw, I mean _serious_," Duo insisted. He turned in my embrace, wrapping his arms around my neck, and fixing a very intent look on me. "I hope I'm right about Quat." A faint frown creased his forehead. "Back at the lake house, he really seemed sincere, but…"

"But now that you know Trowa's lost his heart, you're worried that Quatre might have second thoughts about dating a stripper," I guessed.

"Just…he's a big-shot lawyer…with a reputation to protect…"

"A reputation he'd toss out the window in a heartbeat, if he thought it'd cost him Trowa's love or respect," I said firmly.

"You really believe that?"

I looked at the wide indigo eyes, and the naked fear in their depths. He was genuinely terrified of what would happen to Trowa if Quatre changed his mind.

And, totally unbidden, the words sort of flowed into my head—the words of reassurance Duo needed to hear. "I believe that Quatre Winner is as deeply in love with Trowa as I am with you," I said fervently. "And if that's the case, he'd give up anything to be with him—his possessions, his job, and the entire life he's built for himself—all the things I'd gladly give up just to be with you."

His eyes widened, and then he buried his face against my shirt, his arms tightening almost painfully. "Jesus—," he mumbled into my chest. And then he said something else, but so muffled that I couldn't quite make it out.

"Duo?"

He shook his head. "Not sayin' it again," he gasped, keeping his face averted. "Fuckin' jinx—."

My own eyes widened, as his sudden reluctance seemed to confirm that I'd heard what I thought I did—what I hoped I did.

—_love you—_

I didn't press the issue. Much as I wanted clarification—wanted to hear him say it aloud—_needed _to hear the words—I wasn't going to push. He obviously thought that saying he loved someone was bad luck, and with the upcoming trial and the ordeals we might have to face getting there, I didn't want his fear for my life causing him to endanger his own.

I reached to gently lift his chin so I could place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, and then one on each of his closed eyes. "I love you, Duo Maxwell—and whether you ever say it or not, I know you feel the same way about me. I don't need to hear it, until you feel safe in saying it. Okay?"

He relaxed against me and nodded, sighing deeply. "C'n we go sack out on the couch awhile?" he murmured wearily. "I'm beat."

"Sure," I said warmly, ushering him into the living room and settling him on the couch he'd lain on for his stitches. "All that emotional shit really takes it out of you, doesn't it?"

He gave me a snide look, but couldn't help smiling rather wanly. "Dunno why you put up with me, Yuy. But I'm glad you do."

I snorted and shook my head. "I do it because I'm getting paid to," I teased.

He rolled his eyes, and flipped me the finger; then he snuggled into the pillows, stretching out and putting his sore foot up on the coffee table, and I turned on the television, so he had something to watch while I checked out the security videos.

* * *

We spent a peaceful morning that way, and at noon time I made us a quick lunch of tuna sandwiches, and settled in to watch the news, hoping to catch wind of what was happening on the Khushrenada case.

I got more than I bargained for, when the perky anchorwoman launched into her top headline.

//_The trial of Treize Khushrenada, head of Romefeller Industries and reputed crime lord, is set to begin in two weeks. Prosecutors have moved quickly on the case, claiming that there have been attempts on the life of their star witness, Duo Maxwell.//_

Duo sat up so sharply I'm surprised he didn't launch himself off the couch. "Jesus Christ!" he blurted in horror. "How the fuck did they get my name?"

"I don't know," I replied, my own stomach knotted with worry. "Names of witnesses aren't supposed to be released to the press. But after that web site—well, just about anyone could've found it out."

//_…a stripper at Merquise's nightclub, The Jungle…//_

Sure enough, a picture of Duo in tight leather pants, one hand spread across his crotch while the other stroked his bared chest, filled the screen. That unique chestnut braid trailed over one shoulder and all the way to his waistband.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" he snarled. "Do they have to _help _the goddamned shooters find me?"

There was no doubt in my mind that anyone who saw that picture would spot Duo instantly, even in the biggest crowd.

//_...according to other employees, began dating Zechs Merquise several months ago, and is believed to have been an eye witness to his murder. Maxwell is currently in police custody, his whereabouts unknown, even to District Attorney Noventa, the man responsible for prosecuting the case.//_

The picture switched to a stern, professional-looking man I recognized at once.

//_"While I'm not at liberty to discuss the upcoming trial, I can confirm that our witness is under police protection in a safe location, due to numerous attempts on his life." He raised his chin resolutely. "Judge Lake showed excellent judgment in accelerating the timetable. The sooner we get to the trial, the sooner the assassination attempts will stop."//_

"Well I'm all for that," Duo said firmly. But the look he gave me was tense. "Is my face gonna be plastered all over the news from now on?"

"I'm afraid so," I sighed, only half-listening to the newscaster's continuing speculation about the case. "I'm sorry, Duo. The Captain was supposed to keep a lid on this."

He shrugged with fake nonchalance. "There's only so much she can do, Yuy. All the news hounds had to do was talk to Khushrenada's people. They'd have been only too happy to spill the beans about who the police had as an eye witness. This way they get complete media coverage and they can reach more hit men than ever." He rubbed both hands over his face. "S'pose I won't be able to so much as set foot outside from now on…"

"I don't see what difference it makes," I said reluctantly, hoping to wipe the despairing look off his face. "If you wore a bulky sweatshirt and stuffed the braid under it, you'd be pretty nondescript. Besides, out here in the middle of nowhere, who's to see you?"

He managed a wan smile. "So—maybe a walk on the beach isn't out of the question? After my foot heals, of course."

"Sure," I answered, moving to sit next to him and slide an arm around his shoulders. "Don't let the media hype get to you," I urged. "Happens all the time…names get leaked, and information gets compromised. It won't change anything. You'll still get to the courthouse alive, testify against Khushrenada, put him away for life, and then start a new life of your own."

"With you?"

I nodded. "With me."

He smiled again, but this time it reached his eyes and suffused his face with warmth. "So you're through spouting me rules about how you can't go into relocation with me?"

"Duo—I'd walk into Hell with you," I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief at the words that were tumbling out of my mouth. "I don't care what it takes; I'll find a way to be at your side—as long as you'll have me."

Yep—I'd done it. I'd finally admitted to myself that whatever it was I had with Duo meant more to me than life itself. And I'd admitted it to him as well.

I expected either surprise, or sarcasm, or _some _sort of disbelief on his part. But instead, he merely snuggled closer. "It'd be nice if they'd send us to a place like this," he said quietly, gazing at the television, but not really watching the commercial it had switched to. "I could get used to living by the ocean."

"So, we will," I promised recklessly, eager to take his mind off the disturbing newscast. "No matter where they relocate you, I'll find you, and we'll go wherever you want to go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He curled up next to me, his head tucked against my shoulder, and after awhile, his breathing slowed and evened, and I think he dozed off. I muted the television, and settled in there, enjoying the feel of his relaxed body against mine.

It wasn't until Wufei padded quietly into the room much later that I realized how much time had passed.

My partner glanced from the pair of us on the couch, to the flickering screen of the silent television. And then he picked up a folded blanket from the back of a chair, and draped it around Duo.

I used the moment to ease out from under my lover, replacing myself with a couple of pillows off an armchair. And then I tucked him in and followed Chang to the kitchen.

"It's good that he's resting," Wufei said quietly, rummaging through the refrigerator for something to drink. "Between all the running, the foot injury—well, he needs time to recharge."

"That's not the half of it," I replied. "His name's been leaked to the press, 'Fei. It was all over the midday news—Duo Maxwell is the star witness in the Khushrenada case."

"Shit."

"Yeah." I took the jug of iced tea from him and helped myself to a glass. "It shook him up a bit, seeing his picture on national television."

"I imagine it would."

"But the trial's scheduled to begin in two weeks."

Chang turned wide eyes to me. "That's rather quick, for this sort of case."

"Tell me about it. Noventa got the judge to accelerate the timetable, in the hopes of getting Maxwell to the courthouse alive. He convinced her that the longer we're out here hiding, the more likely an assassin will get lucky."

"Her?" Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Who's the judge?"

"Victoria Lake."

My partner gave a grim smile. "I heard she's tough."

"She'll have to be," I agreed. "The fact that she's willing to hurry things along is a good sign. She's not afraid to ruffle feathers. And she believed Noventa's prediction that waiting would put Duo at greater risk."

"He's right. Especially if they're publicizing Maxwell's picture."

"It's one of the publicity photos for the club," I told him with a vague smirk. "Shirtless—tight leather pants—a bit racy for noontime broadcast, really."

"And you loved it," he chided.

I shook my head. "Honestly? As hot as he looked in that outfit—or out of it—I'd rather see him in faded jeans and a tee shirt, playing on the fucking beach."

He smiled. "As I keep saying, you've got it bad." While we were talking, Chang had put together a sandwich for himself, and he carried it over to the table. "I take it we'll need to talk to the Captain pretty soon—find out when and where to bring Maxwell in."

I grimaced at the thought. "I'll feel like we're ducks in a shooting gallery," I grumbled. "No matter where she sets up the meeting, it'll feel exposed."

"Too bad we can't have him testify by video."

"Oh, that'd be nice," I agreed. "You'd think in cases like this, they might consider a remote interview."

"Sadly, the justice system still requires that the accused gets to face his accuser in person."

I just snorted derisively. "Khushrenada doesn't deserve that much."

"I agree. But it's the system." Wufei stretched and ran a hand back through his hair. "When I finish my sandwich, d'you mind if I take a shower before my turn at watch?"

"Of course not." I was wide awake and still felt refreshed by the good night's sleep I'd gotten. "You go right ahead, and when you're ready to take over, I was thinking maybe I'd borrow Catherine's car and go explore the area a bit."

"The town is about five miles north of here," he told me. "Just a small village, really. There's a general store, a couple of restaurants, some shops and houses and stuff. It's, well, 'quaint,' for lack of a better word."

"How are they with strangers?"

"They hardly gave Catherine and me a second glance when we went for groceries. People know her, since she's been here before. And they know the circus people spend some down time out here; they don't seem overly inquisitive."

"Good. I'd like to pick up a paper and see what additional news I can find. Television anchors always seem to choose the sensational part of a story and leave out all the pertinent details."

"It's all fluff and hype," agreed my partner darkly. "And in this case, it's liable to compromise Maxwell's safety. I despise media vultures."

I grinned in complete agreement, finishing off my tea and heading out for a perimeter check, while Wufei took his shower.

* * *

I found myself up on the cliffs overlooking the beach, with a bird's eye view of the entire shoreline. And it was reassuringly empty of human activity. Only a few sandpipers populated the peaceful beach, playing tag with the waves as the tide slowly came in. I could see why Duo had taken an instant liking to the place; it was very peaceful.

As I trudged back down the path towards the house, I let my gaze scan the windswept landscape, glad that there were only a few stunted trees to obscure any would-be trespassers. As odd as it might seem, being in a rather open area had its benefits. While it felt exposed, it also felt like Chang and I could spot an intruder from a far greater distance than we had at either the log cabin or the lake house.

I entered through the kitchen, trying not to disturb Duo's nap, and found Catherine cutting up vegetables for supper.

"Everything secure?" she asked, sparing me a quick glance.

I couldn't help noticing she never missed a beat with that knife. She kept a steady, quick chopping motion going even when she looked away. What had Duo said? She and Trowa did a knife-throwing act.

"Yes, everything's fine," I assured her, heading for the teapot. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to borrow the car and take a ride into town to pick up a paper and look around a bit."

"Wufei said you might," she acknowledged, nodding towards the keys hanging on a hook by the door. "We topped off the tank yesterday, after we'd gotten groceries. So you shouldn't need to add any. The town's only about five miles away."

I raised an eyebrow. "What would happen if you broke down?"

"Well, if it weren't for this cast, I'd be able to walk to get help," she pointed out. "But since I can't, I'd just call the local garage and have 'em come out for a road call." She smiled rather indulgently. "Folks help each other out around here. It's not like the big city." She shook her head. "I don't know how Trowa stands it there—all the noise and crowds."

"Duo thrives on that, too," I told her, starting to heat water for tea. "It's kind of funny that he's talking about coming to a place like this after relocation."

"Is he?" She cocked her head to the side, a thoughtful look on her face. "Maybe he's gotten tired of all the hustle and bustle."

"I think he's gotten tired of a lot of things," I agreed. "And maybe he's finally realized there's more to life than partying and living on the edge."

"Good," she said firmly. "If you'd seen him when Trowa and he first met—."

I raised an eyebrow. "I take it he was pretty wild."

"He was—dangerous," she said darkly, frowning down at the carrot she was chopping. "Dangerous for himself and anyone around him. Trowa wouldn't tell me half the stuff that Duo was into back then; I think he knew I'd try to keep him from coming back around."

"Maybe he wanted time to help Duo change his lifestyle."

She nodded. "I think that was a big part of it. They hit it off right from the start. Duo was at the circus with the kids from the orphanage—and he snuck backstage to get a closer look at the big cats."

"That's where he met Trowa?"

"Yeah. And pretty soon he got to be a fixture at every show, helping out with chores sometimes, and hanging around with Trowa between performances." She looked pensive. "I never did figure out why they didn't fall in love."

I gave her a sharp look. "I'm glad they didn't."

She gave a slightly sheepish smile. "I guess you would be." One eyebrow rose in a quizzical gesture. "You're not jealous of how close they are?"

"Not any more," I said honestly.

"Good." She finished her chopping and scraped the vegetables into a pot. "Maybe they just found they worked better as friends," she mused.

"Could be," I admitted, pouring my tea and stirring in a little bit of honey.

As Chang walked in, his hair still damp from the shower, I toasted him with my cup. "The water's still hot for tea."

"Excellent." He helped himself to a cup, and I noticed a warm glance passed between him and Catherine as he reached past her for the tea bags. "All quiet out there, Yuy?"

"Yes. And as soon as I finish my tea, I'm heading for town to pick up a newspaper and catch up on any gossip I might overhear."

"Sounds good." My partner glanced towards the living room. "Is he still asleep?"

"I assume so, since he hasn't joined us out here."

"You shouldn't wear him out so much at night," he murmured almost under his breath, with a faint blush on his cheeks.

Shit. Chang was actually teasing me about my relationship! Granted, he was squirming a bit as he did it—but he was teasing.

"Once upon a time, you commented that he was less obnoxious while sleeping," I reminded him. "Maybe you should thank me."

He gave a wry snort. "I think you've already been rewarded enough."

Wow. He even got in the last word.

I gave a good-natured grin, and stood up. "Well, on that note—I'll leave you two to work on supper, and head for town."

I grabbed the car keys off the hook by the door, but then paused before heading out. "Hey, Catherine—if Duo wakes up before I get back, could you try to come up with something for him to do? Keep him occupied so he doesn't think about the media frenzy?"

"Sure," she said with a bright smile. "I'll keep him busy." She threw in a coy wink. "But not _too _busy."

I grinned and shook my head as I went out.

* * *

Chang and Catherine were right. The town was a tiny village—quaint enough to almost be sickeningly sweet. But my tolerance for charm had gone up of late, and I found myself looking around and wondering if Duo would be enchanted by the whitewashed shops and rustic cottages. I could almost guarantee he'd be thrilled at the sight of the town beach—a fairly smooth expanse of sand bordered by a stone wall, and dotted with colorful umbrellas. Despite the chill breeze off the water, there were people out enjoying the sun. I guessed if they were used to living this far north, the cold would be a relative thing.

I entered the General Store, forcing myself not to grin at the sound of a little tinkling bell over the screen door. Like I said—sickeningly quaint.

The storekeeper glanced up, looked back down, and then looked up more intently. "Good afternoon." He kept a wary gaze on me. "Lookin' for something specific?"

"Just need a few odds and ends," I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "Maybe a newspaper, if you've got one."

He gestured to the rack beside the door. "Got the local paper, the city edition, and one they truck up from the Capitol."

I studied the array, careful not to grimace at the sight of Duo's very recognizable face on the front page of all three publications. I grabbed a copy of the one with the largest circulation, figuring the others would mostly be copying its text.

I tossed that on the counter, and went to the shelves to see if there was anything else we might find useful. Sadly, there were no tanks or assault rifles—and I was beginning to think we'd need both to get Duo to the courthouse alive.

"You from the circus?" asked the shopkeeper, who had made his way to the end of the row I was standing in.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, Miss Bloom had an oriental-looking gentleman with her last time she came in, and you look—." He trailed off uncomfortably when I fixed a stern gaze on him. "Jus' thought maybe you an' the other fella had an act together or something."

"He's my partner," I agreed, deciding to let the locals assume we were affiliated with the circus if they wanted to.

In fact, that belief could easily work in our favor.

"You don't get many strangers around here, I take it," I said casually, picking up some matches and batteries.

"Almost none," he shrugged.

I resisted the urge to say "_good_" out loud. And at the same time, I decided to cut my visit short, before he asked any more questions. "This should do it," I said quickly, brandishing the matches and batteries and heading for the cash register.

He tagged along, slipping around behind the counter and ringing up the purchase. Just before he totaled it, I asked for a carton of Duo's brand of cigarettes, though I hated to encourage the habit. But the time to go cold turkey on cigarettes is not when you're dodging hit men and rabid newscasters.

He bagged my purchases, giving me another once-over as he handed the container to me. "Tell Miz Catherine that I said 'hello,' and to hurry up and get that cast off so my stock boy can admire her legs again."

His teasing comment startled a grin out of me, and I raised an eyebrow. "How old is your stock boy?"

"Twelve," he smirked back.

"A little young, isn't he?"

"Fella's never too young to notice a pretty girl."

I gave a noncommittal grunt, having never been overly taken by pretty girls myself. "Tell your stock boy he might have competition."

He chuckled warmly. "I thought your partner seemed a bit possessive."

Damn, the man was observant! I didn't know whether to be pleased by that, or horrified. He seemed genuine enough—like the old fellow who'd given us a ride in the pickup truck. But I couldn't afford to be too relaxed about our security.

"I don't know about possessive," I demurred. "But definitely interested."

He gave a nod. "Yep—that would've been obvious to a blind man." He slid a glance to the back room, where I guessed the stock boy was working. "Well, I s'pose the best man'll win, eh?"

I chuckled along with him, finding I liked him in spite of my suspicious nature. He seemed like the genuine article—a small-town businessman who looked out for his own. "I'll tell my partner he's got his work cut out for him." With a nod of farewell, I picked up my bag and headed out.

During the drive back to the farmhouse, I kept a wary eye on my surroundings, taking note of several signs for a state park as well as dirt access roads into them. That might come in handy, if we had to make a hasty exit.

I decided to ask Catherine if she had any maps of the area, mentally kicking myself for not purchasing one at the General Store. It would look odd if I doubled back for it now. Perhaps I could have Chang grab one when they made the next grocery run.

By the time I turned onto the drive for the circus property, I was chafing with impatience, eager to check on Duo's state of mind and try to ease his fears, and a bit desperate to start planning our escape. It felt like time was running out.


	45. Distractions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Five: Distractions

I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled back into the garage and turned off the car, gathering up my little bag of supplies and the newspaper before heading inside.

I found Duo and Catherine in a deep discussion of the relative merits of oregano versus thyme in whatever recipe they were concocting, while Wufei sat impartially by, sipping a cup of tea.

"—it'll overpower the chicken!" Duo was saying vehemently.

"But that's how Trowa always made it."

"Trowa was trying to copy _my _cooking—but he never really caught on to which herbs complement which meats—." Duo broke off and turned to flash a quick smile of greeting my way, his glance falling to the bag in my hand and the rolled-up paper under my arm. "So you went on a fact-finding mission, eh?"

I nodded, tossing the bag onto the counter. "I brought you cigarettes, too."

"Score!" he cheered happily, pulling the carton out of the bag. Then he glanced over his shoulder at me. "Thought you didn't like my smoking."

"I don't—but considering our situation, this isn't the best time for you to quit."

He grinned knowingly. "Yeah, it's a bitch giving 'em up. Don't think I haven't tried a time or two."

"Well right now, you don't need any extra stress," I assured him.

Wufei gestured to the seat across from him. "Pull up a chair," he invited.

I gave a quick nod. "In a sec. Um—Catherine? Do you have any maps of this area?"

She handed over the ladle to Duo, who assumed command of the stove and the simmering pot. "I'm sure we do," she said with a thoughtful frown. "I think they're in the hall closet, where the flashlights and stuff are."

I followed her to the aforementioned closet, and she rummaged in it for a moment before producing a fistful of folded maps. "Here you go."

As I headed back to the kitchen, she plunked along beside me. "What do you need them for?"

"I want to see if there are foot paths around here leading through the state park I saw signs for." I spread the first map out on the table, and Chang sat up curiously.

"Don't tell me we're taking off on foot again," he muttered, having apparently overheard my statement.

"Not unless we have to," I shrugged. "But I want to know all the escape routes."

Duo turned from the stove, and my attention was momentarily diverted at the sight of him with a face flushed from hovering over the steaming pot. Wisps of hair curled about his face, and there was a faint sheen of moisture on his upper lip. He looked more delicious than whatever he was cooking.

"We gotta start running again?" he asked a bit wearily.

"Not yet," I assured him, trying for a calming tone. "But with the added publicity of your name being leaked, as well as the timetable for the trial, we can expect to have to move pretty soon."

He sighed, nodding. "Figured as much," he muttered. "Fuckin' reporters."

I went back to studying the map, and found it only had major roads and thoroughfares. So I opened another, laying it over the first and looking for a closer view of our surroundings.

While I was busy with that, I noticed Catherine pulling up a chair beside Wufei and unfolding the paper I'd brought home. They began reading in silence, while Duo returned to his cooking and I kept poring over maps.

The fourth map had the information I was seeking; it showed miles and miles of dirt roads and hiking trails throughout the thousand or so acres of state land just to the south of our position.

"Bingo."

"Found what you were looking for?" Wufei inquired, looking up from a close up picture of Duo and Zechs at one of the last appearances they'd made in public before the murder.

"Yes. If necessary, we could leave here on foot and make our way twenty miles south to the nearest town without ever having to cross a paved highway."

"Fuck," Duo muttered unhappily. "I s'pose there's bears, too."

"Moose," Catherine said casually. "But only in the spring when they come to the salt flats looking to replenish their reserves after the winter depletes them."

"Thanks for the natural history lesson," came Duo's sour response. "But don't expect me to be thrilled over the lack of bears." He rolled his eyes, and then headed for the oven to check on whatever was giving off a warm, heavenly scent.

"Moose are more aggressive than bears," I mentioned absently, as I traced a fingernail over the most direct route to another village.

"Well, mostly in the fall when the mating season comes around," Wufei added. "Or when they've got calves."

"Would you people shut the fuck up about animals that want to _eat _me?" Duo demanded.

There was a moment of silence as I smirked down at the map, and caught a glimpse of my two cohorts doing the same.

"Moose aren't carnivorous," Catherine piped up quietly, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Duo turned around and put his hands on his hips. "What the _fuck _is 'carnivorous'?"

"Meat-eaters," Wufei told him helpfully. "Like bears."

"Actually," Catherine cut in. "Bears are omnivores. They eat whatever they stumble across—and a great deal of fruits, insects and nuts and things."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Duo snapped, glaring at all three of us. "Are you trying to scare me? Because it's not working. I'm not going to worry about dodging some monster bull moose when there are hit men after me!"

"Good," I said with an approving tone. "Because the hit men are a lot more likely to find us than a moose is."

"Thanks for nothing, Yuy," Duo growled irritably. "I'm going out on the porch to have a cigarette. And then maybe I'll have another shot of that whiskey—to settle my nerves."

"It was scotch!" Catherine called after his retreating back.

He flipped her the finger over his shoulder and stalked out onto the porch, while the three of us chuckled helplessly.

"We really shouldn't bait him," Wufei managed between snickers. "He truly does have enough on his mind without us trying to make him imagine dangers that aren't there."

"Oh, but he's so _easy_," Catherine said unrepentantly. "Honestly. When it comes to animals, he's such a babe in the woods."

"Literally," I noted, recalling Duo's fascination when we'd first had to hike for our lives. Granted, his delight at smelling pine trees had been tempered by how shaken he'd been by our first close call. But he really _was _an innocent when it came to nature and animals.

Catherine chose to misunderstand my comment, and gave me a devilish grin. "He's a babe, all right," she teased. "Those big indigo eyes, and pouty lips—. It's a shame he's gay."

"No, it's not—," Wufei and I began in unison.

We exchanged sheepish grins, and I folded up the map, having seen all I needed to. "I'll go settle him down," I offered.

"You do that," Wufei smirked.

"Just don't take too long," Catherine threw after me. "We don't want supper to burn."

_Great—a pair of jokers._

I found Duo pacing restlessly on the porch, smoking his cigarette with single-minded intensity.

"Hey, love, we were just kidding," I soothed, walking up behind him as he paused at the end of the railing. "Not that there _aren't_ any moose—but the likelihood of seeing one is very small."

He turned around, giving me a troubled look. "I know," he sighed, blowing out a puff of smoke. "It's just—I'm still kinda tense about that newscast, y'know. Guess I'm not up to handling a lot of teasing right now."

I nodded in understanding. "We'll back off. Promise. I think we were hoping it'd relax you; not the opposite."

"Nothing could relax me right now," he said frankly, taking a long drag on the cigarette and then tossing it to the floor and grinding it under the toe of his boot. "Even _that_."

"There's still the scotch," I suggested with a faint smile, trying to put a spark of humor into those troubled eyes.

He looked back with a wan grin. "Prob'ly wouldn't work either," he grumbled.

Then his eyes drifted down my shoulders and lazily made their way south.

_Oh_.

Although I knew where his mind was going, I decided to play along, as he edged a bit closer. "What's left?"

He grinned evilly. "Sex."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to look impassive, though I doubt he was fooled.

He shrugged innocently. "Always worked before."

I closed the distance between us, slipping my arms around his waist and pulling him up against me.

I didn't go right for the kiss—but instead rubbed my cheek against his, nuzzling his hair and nipping at an ear. "Well then," I purred in the sexiest tone I could muster with his lean body melting against mine. "Why mess with success?"

I felt a warm chuckle erupt in his chest, and he threw his arms around my neck, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. It only took a moment for the rest of me to feel pretty heated, too, and I drew back to catch my breath.

"God you are _so _good to me," he whispered almost reverently.

"I will be after supper," I promised, turning back towards the kitchen with an arm keeping him pinned to my side. "But right now I promised Chang and Bloom I wouldn't let it burn."

His hand dropped to my ass, kneading suggestively as we reached the door. "Oh, it's burnin' all right."

We made our way back into the kitchen to knowing smirks, and glances thrown over the edge of the paper Wufei and Catherine were still reading. But Duo ignored their sly looks and went to stir the simmering pot.

"Time to set the table," he announced, eyeing the bubbling liquid critically. "This is almost done, and I'll be pulling the rolls out of the oven any second."

Within minutes we were sitting down to a meal of some sort of chicken and tomato stew over linguine, with a side dish of steamed vegetables and home made biscuits. Once again Duo had proven his skills in the kitchen were beyond compare.

Christ, was there _anything _that man couldn't do? He could run like a cross-country athlete, dance with the grace of a ballerina, cook a gourmet meal with leftovers from the pantry, cuss like a sailor, and then make love like he'd invented the act. He was—amazing.

And he was _all mine_.

"What's that sappy smile for?" Wufei asked, catching me staring dreamily off into space with a forkful of pasta halfway to my mouth.

"It's for me," Duo piped up happily, and I looked over to see he'd been watching me—and apparently reading my mind again.

I just grinned a bit sheepishly, feeling a blush heat my face. "So what if it is?" I said a bit defensively. "I'm entitled."

"Yeah, you are," Duo agreed, winking and resuming eating his meal.

We finished up in relative silence, and very deliberately skipped the evening news, having seen quite enough of the media hype on the noon broadcast. Instead, all four of us played a game of gin rummy to kill a couple of hours, and then Wufei took the first watch, while I escorted our witness to his room.

Okay. To _our _room.

Yeah, there wasn't much point in trying to hide the fact that we were spending the nights together. Wufei wasn't stupid—and frankly, even if Duo hadn't been my lover, I'd have wanted to be in the same room for safety's sake. After our flight from the first safe house, and the nightmares Duo had in the second, it just didn't make sense not to be close enough to protect him from either threat.

And of course, it was no chore at all, though I did have to keep that promise I'd made to him earlier.

* * *

Despite the emotional strain of knowing Duo had been "outed" to the media, we picked up our normal routine the next morning as if nothing had changed. While Catherine and Duo made the breakfast, Chang and I went over the previous night's security logs.

Nothing unusual had occurred, and so we enjoyed a reasonably relaxed meal, before Wufei and Catherine headed off to bed, leaving Duo and me to clean up the dishes.

"I thought the cook wasn't supposed to have to wash dishes," Duo muttered, filling the sink with sudsy water while I scraped the plates into the trash.

"You can sit and watch me do them," I offered, glancing significantly at his bandaged and stockinged foot.

He just rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder into mine in a chiding gesture. "Not a cripple, Yuy. And from the way you guys were talking last night, I may need to be on my feet a lot in the near future."

"Which is perhaps why you should rest it now, while you can," I pointed out.

"Feels fine," he assured me, barely limping as he went to get a clean dishrag. "Cathy did a bang-up job fixin' it."

"Yes, she did—and I'll be eternally grateful to her for that."

He smirked at me. "Sap."

"Not at all—I just like your feet intact—like the rest of you."

"Not to worry," he assured me. "Chang said something about taking a trip to the local health food store for some of those herbs he made that last foot soak out of." A sly gleam entered his eyes. "I think he just wants to show off his medical knowledge for Cathy."

"Well it is something they have in common," I noted, watching the way Duo rested his injured foot behind him as he stood at the sink. He might say it felt fine, but he was obviously still favoring it.

For that reason, when the dishes were done, I made him get comfortable on the couch, his foot elevated, while I settled in to do my computer work.

I found him curled up with his sketch pad an hour later, when I was headed out to do a perimeter check.

"Stay inside, and don't answer the door without waking Chang first," I cautioned, checking my gun and tucking it back into the holster.

He looked up from his drawing, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "I know the drill, Yuy."

"It bears repeating—especially now." I paused to give him a long, worried look. "Things are moving faster—with the trial date being accelerated. We need to expect the worst, if Khushrenada's people get desperate."

He grimaced a little at that, and I leaned over him to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. "Don't worry about it. That's my job, and Chang's. Just—be smart—and do as we say, and we'll get you through this, love."

He rolled his eyes. "You're starting to sound like you did at the start of this trip—except for that little slip of the tongue at the end there."

"It wasn't a slip," I teased, brushing my lips across him again. "But if it's tongue you're looking for—." The next kiss lasted considerably longer than the first had, and involved tongue, teeth and lips—in equal measure. He was panting when I pulled away, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to give the kind of casual wink he usually did, and then turn and head out to make my rounds.

Once outside of the cottage, breathing the cool sea air, I quickly pulled myself together and got my mind back on the job at hand. I walked along the cliffs, scanning as far as I could see in all directions for any potential threats, and at the same time looking for the property boundaries, which according to the maps directly abutted state land and the hiking trails I hoped we wouldn't have to use.

Sure enough, I was able to find signs posted for the state park, and even some weathered markers for a blue trail and a yellow trail. I made a mental note to compare them on the map and see if they had the same color designations.

By the time I got back to the house, I was hungry enough to be thinking about lunch; not to mention another helping of Duo.

He'd apparently anticipated that I might have worked up an appetite, and was in the kitchen as I slipped quietly in the back door.

"Making lunch already?" I asked hopefully, setting aside my binoculars and the windbreaker I'd taken off halfway through my lengthy hike.

"You were gone long enough," he pointed out. "I figured you might be hungry by now."

"Starving."

He gave me a come-hither look over his shoulder. "For food, or—something else?"

"Both?" I suggested. "Food now—something else later?"

"Later," he sighed. "Yeah, I suppose it can wait."

"It has to," I said with equal regret. "Chang and Catherine should be up and about by the time we finish lunch, and I want to take Chang with me to look over the trail heads."

"Ah. The ones we'll probably end up running for our lives on?" he guessed, handing me a plate with a sandwich on it, and picking up one for himself, heading over to the table.

"I hope not."

He plunked himself down in a chair and picked up his sandwich. "I was watching the news before you got back."

"Anything new?"

"Yeah—more stuff about Zechs an' me."

"You need to try to let that roll off your back," I advised. "They'll say anything to sensationalize the story."

He nodded, frowning slightly.

"Did they say anything about the case against Kushrenada?"

"A little. They talked about forensic evidence—had some big-shot expert babbling about hair samples and DNA and footprints and shit like that."

"Nothing specific, I hope."

"Naw—just bullshit about what sort of evidence might be presented if they've got it." He gave me a worried look. "They _have _got some—right?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Not reassuring, Yuy."

"You want me to lie to you?"

He shook his head, giving a wry smile. "No. It'd go against your nature anyway, wouldn't it? You're not one to sugar coat things or pull punches, are ya?"

"No, I'm not."

His smile widened a little, relaxing into something more genuine. "I like that about you."

I almost told him that I liked _everything _about him. But that wouldn't have been completely true. I sure as hell didn't like some of the old habits he'd had, or the company he'd kept. But I could probably say in all honesty that right at the moment, there wasn't anything left about him that I didn't like.

I was so caught up in my musings that I didn't notice him get up to take his empty plate to the sink—until he returned and was leaning over me, an arm across the back of my chair.

"This is the part where you're supposed to tell me what you like about me," he chided.

I gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smirk. "Still trying to think of something."

He pushed back, glaring in mock-fury. "You little shit!"

I stood up and caught his hands as he would have moved away. "I like the fire in your eyes when I piss you off," I said with a grin.

"You would."

"And I like the way we make up," I added, pulling him in for a kiss.

He sighed and relented, though upon reflection I decided next time we had tuna for lunch, maybe I'd skip the kissing until later.

"Ugh—tuna breath," he muttered, echoing my sentiments. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth!"

I laughed as he hobbled off to do just that, and set about cleaning up the lunch dishes so he didn't have to.

Chang walked in as I was finishing, casting a look over his shoulder. "What was Maxwell muttering about 'killer tuna' back there in the hallway?"

"Want a sandwich?" I offered, holding up the bowl of tuna salad.

"Not if it's going to kill me."

"It won't. Not as long as you brush your teeth before kissing Catherine."

I realized I'd overstepped his notions of decency when he stiffened, his face going dark. "Yuy—."

"Sorry," I said quickly. "Just a figure of speech. I didn't mean to imply anything was going on with you two. Anything like _that _anyway."

He seemed to relax fractionally. "Not everyone leaps into the physical aspects of a relationship so quickly, Yuy."

I hadn't really thought Duo and I did things quickly, though by Chang's standards it might seem that way. I resisted the impulse to tell my partner he didn't know what he was missing. God—I was even starting to think like Duo!

"About that sandwich—?"

"Oh, yes." I quickly threw together a couple more sandwiches, anticipating that Catherine would be along soon, which she was.

While she and Chang ate sandwiches, and Duo did—whatever it was he was doing—I snuck out to the living room to try to catch tidbits of news in between the soap operas on television. I didn't want to watch with Duo at my side, since I knew the thought of being the subject of national news made him very edgy.

Hell, it made _me _edgy. How many people who'd seen us along the way would remember his face now that it was plastered all over the television? And which of them would be only too happy to collect a fat reward from Khushrenada for revealing what they knew?

I decided we'd start keeping backpacks filled with food and weapons lined up in the front hallway, much like we had at the lake house. I didn't think it would unduly alarm Duo, since he already knew that our stay by the ocean was winding to a close.

But by the same token, I decided to ask Catherine again to find ways to distract him and give him a break from the obsessive worrying I'd be doing. Neither she nor Duo needed to know the level of paranoia Chang and I would be carrying over the next few days—until we got word that the trial was beginning.

"Yuy?"

I looked up to see my partner leaning in the doorway, watching the television over my shoulder. "Finished lunch already?"

"Yes, and Maxwell said you wanted to show me the trails you'd located on the map."

"Ready to go?"

He gave a quick nod, glancing over his shoulder. "I think they're already planning supper—some new concoction Maxwell wants to try."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I replied with a grin.

"It is," he smirked back. "A man could get fat with those two cooking for him."

"I'm willing to take my chances."

* * *

I led the way out of the house, and back along the cliffs towards the state land I'd explored earlier in the day, filling Chang in on the news I'd been able to catch.

"You realize," he cut in, ever the voice of reason, "it's going to boil down to his word against Khushrenada's."

I frowned, not liking that thought. "According to the press, there's actually quite a bit of forensic evidence to back up Duo's account of the murder," I pointed out stubbornly.

Wufei shrugged noncommittally, playing Devil's advocate as usual. "The press is notoriously unreliable, Yuy. Captain Po never did tell us if they'd managed to match the shoe print in Merquise's blood on the Persian rug with footwear belonging to Khushrenada."

"Yes, but Winner sort of did," I reminded him. "Back at the lake house. He said the print was from a very exclusive, custom-made shoe—."

"—which they did not find."

"But still…if Khushrenada owned a pair, that's got to be pretty conclusive." I wanted to believe there was a preponderance of evidence that would back my lover's statement. I didn't want to think of Duo having to try to sway an entire jury with just his testimony.

"It's circumstantial," Wufei corrected me. "And yes, they can convict him on circumstantial evidence—but they need a hell of a lot of it."

"Or an eye witness…and we've got that."

He shook his head, looking troubled. "Still—I'd like to think there's more to the case than a shoeprint and Maxwell's testimony."

"There's Trant," I reminded him, stopping in my tracks and raising my binoculars, focusing on a small boat floating some distance off shore.

"The Feds have him," came my partner's sour reply.

"But if it comes right down to it, I'll bet they'd let him corroborate Duo's testimony."

"Assuming he's still alive."

"Chang, you're a fucking pessimist."

"So were you—until recently." He squinted in the direction I was facing. "Something interesting about that fishing boat?"

"You mean aside from the fact that there are no markings on it?"

"Maybe they're on the other side."

"And maybe there aren't any." I scowled, scanning the deck of the small craft, and finally zooming in on a couple of men who appeared to be coiling up lines and stowing away some gear. "But the people on board seem to be doing what fishermen should do," I conceded.

I heard a small sigh of relief, and realized he'd been as tense as I was. "I may not be a pessimist," I pointed out. "But I'm sure as hell paranoid."

"Under the circumstances, that's a good thing to be."

We resumed our walk, still scanning our surroundings for any sign of intruders. But sometimes a fishing boat is just a fishing boat.

That seemed to be the case, as we saw nothing else suspicious while we toured the perimeter and checked out the trails. My surveillance devices, few as they were, seemed to be functioning perfectly, assuring that we'd have ample warning if there was a breech of security.

I felt reasonably sure we'd done all we could to prepare ourselves, as we headed back to the farmhouse in companionable silence.

My hand was on the doorknob, when a voice from behind nearly made us both jump out of our skins, spinning with guns in hand.

"Hey guys—whoa! Little trigger-happy there?" Duo asked, raising his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"What are you doing out here?" I snapped in frustration, holstering my gun with a slightly unsteady hand.

"Cathy sent me to the barn to get her throwing knives. She's gonna sharpen 'em up and give me a lesson tomorrow."

"So you snuck up behind us?" Wufei asked a bit breathlessly. I was relieved he seemed as shaken as I'd been.

Duo eyed him appraisingly. "I didn't sneak. Hell, I fuckin' jogged to catch up when I saw you walking up the steps."

"That's a good way to get yourself shot," snapped Chang, scowling.

Duo's eyes narrowed, and he went from joking to serious in a heartbeat. "You two are on a hair-trigger. What did you see out there?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Everything's clear."

He cocked his head, a skeptical light in his eyes.

"There was a fishing boat," I blurted, realizing there was no use trying to keep him oblivious to any impending threat. "It got us worried for a moment. That's it."

"Wouldn't be the first time they came at us in boats," he commented, walking up beside me, his limp barely noticeable since he'd put boots on.

"It was just a fishing boat," Wufei assured him, opening the door. "We watched long enough to be sure that's all they were doing."

Duo nodded, preceding us through the door. "'S okay, Chang. With you two on the job, it could be an entire fleet; they'd never get past." He glanced over his shoulder with a teasing grin as we followed him.

Catherine was waiting in the living room, her whetstone out and a tray set up for sharpening her knives. "Find them okay?" she asked Duo.

He plunked a rolled-up hunk of canvas on the coffee table. "No problem."

The auburn-haired girl smiled past him at Wufei and me.

Okay…at Wufei. I just happened to be right behind him.

"Back already?" she asked. "We didn't start supper yet or anything."

"It's early," I told her. "There's plenty of time later."

Wufei stole the spot beside her on the couch, his attention riveted on the piece of cloth she unrolled to reveal the gleaming blades within. Each was tucked into a slender "pocket" in the canvas, which protected the blades as well as the person handling the bundle.

"Hm—high grade steel," my partner noted, reaching to run a finger over one knife hilt.

"Help yourself," Catherine offered, tugging one out and expertly beginning to run it over the whetstone to sharpen the edge.

Duo was leaning on the back of the couch, and gave a slight shake of his head. "You two enjoy bonding over your knives," he suggested teasingly. "Yuy and I will be in the kitchen—heating something up."

I caught the hint of suggestion in his tone, and bit back a smirk, but couldn't help adding my own comment. "We might even make dinner, too."


	46. Diversions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Six: Diversions

Although Captain Po had told us to call her when we heard that the trial was starting, Chang and I thought it best to wait until Trowa checked in with Winner and contacted us. I didn't have a disposable cell phone left, and didn't want to use my own to make a call to the precinct. And I sure as hell didn't want to use a land line.

So we waited, and worried, and tried not to watch any more of the news than was necessary, in order to stay informed.

And, despite the tension that hung over us, we managed to settle into a sort of routine over the next couple of days.

First thing in the morning, after Wufei and Catherine had taken the night watch (yes, she still made it her practice to stay up with him), we'd all gather for breakfast and an exchange of any pertinent information or plans.

Then the two sleepy night watchmen would head for their respective beds, and Duo and I would tidy up the kitchen and find something to occupy our morning. Sometimes he'd sketch while I reviewed the security logs, and other times we'd take a walk together so I could check out the perimeter.

He invariably dressed in bulky layers, hiding his braid under whatever jacket or hat he'd donned, and I was reasonably satisfied that he looked as nondescript as possible, though I harbored no illusions that anyone who'd seen Duo along the way to the circus property would forget his unique appearance once it showed up in the newscasts.

But even if a sighting from along the way was reported, there was nothing to lead them to us now. Duo had never gone to town with either Chang or me, and so his trail should turn cold in that seedy hotel where we'd spent a night. At least, I hoped it did.

At any rate, in the afternoons, Chang and I went over our escape plans and perimeter checks, and fine-tuned our grocery list so that we'd have only the essentials—but _all _of the essentials.

Catherine and Duo found their own diversions then. I know the first day they cleaned out part of the barn and set up some equipment for knife practice; then they put together a tasty casserole for dinner.

The second day they spent making the barn stink to high heavens as they played with some sort of magic trick stuff.

Chang and I caught on to their pastime when we noticed traces of smoke drifting out the open doors as we returned from a perimeter sweep.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, speeding up our pace as I worried that they'd somehow started a fire.

Chang was ahead of me, bursting in the doors and looking wildly around for our wayward charges. "Catherine? Maxwell?"

"Right here," came her lilting voice, as she hobbled over to the door.

"What is that stench?" my partner demanded, still glancing around uneasily.

"Sulfur!" Duo said cheerily, coming around from behind a wooden box. "And a little gunpowder. Cool stuff, Wuffers."

"What on Earth are you two doing?"

"Cathy's teachin' me magic tricks," Duo announced, grinning from ear to ear. "Wanna see me disappear?"

Wufei glanced at me with a perfectly wicked smirk. "Ah, if only he'd asked that at the start of this trip, eh?"

I couldn't help smiling back. "Yes, but at this point, we really need to keep him in sight."

Duo glared at both of us. "C'mon. Lemme demonstrate my newfound talent, hm?"

I eyed him speculatively and licked my lips.

He rolled his eyes. "I have talents outside the bedroom, Yuy."

"I know. You're pretty good in the kitchen, too," I assured him.

Before he could launch a rebuttal, Chang cut in smoothly. "So, show us this trick you've learned, Maxwell. Now that Yuy mentioned the kitchen, I realize it's past my supper time."

Duo hesitated only an instant, and then jogged over to the box. It stood about seven feet tall, had small wheels at each corner, and was barely large enough for a man to fit inside. There was a curtain across the front, which my lover pulled aside with a flourish, showing us an empty interior.

"As you can see, the box is empty." He closed the curtain and rotated the box so that the back side was facing us. Then he knocked solidly on the wood. "It's also sturdy," he pointed out, before turning it back around. Then he drew back the curtain again, and stepped inside. "Prepare to be amazed."

He closed the curtain, and for a moment it rustled as he adjusted himself inside the tight space.

"And—abracadabra!" he called, accompanied by a puff of smoke and a flash of light that actually threw back the curtain—to reveal an empty box.

"Very cute," Wufei drawled, unimpressed. "I suppose there's a compartment in the back. You can come out now, Duo."

We walked closer, and I frowned a little, thinking the box had been too narrow for there to be a hidden compartment. "I don't think he's still in it, Chang." I circled to the back, examining the wood. "There must be a back door." I glanced around the barn, wondering how Duo had ducked away without us seeing.

Catherine was grinning mysteriously. "Can _you _open a back door on it?"

Despite running my fingers along the edge, I could find no sign of hinges or a latch that could be released.

Chang scowled, looking down at the floor behind the box, but it was wood, and showed no footprints. "Maxwell! Just come out and explain the trick!" he ordered.

Catherine gave a laugh and took pity on us. "Do you really want to know how it's done?"

"Yes," I said curtly, feeling a twinge of unease at Duo's continued absence.

She gestured us back to where we'd been standing before, and stood beside the box. "As you can see, Duo has vanished into thin air. But to bring him back, we need to say the magic words."

"And those would be—?" Wufei asked archly.

"Get the fuck out here now!" I snapped, beginning to grow irritated with the game.

The pretty girl chuckled and closed the curtain, giving the box a spin. "Close, Yuy," she teased. "But next time try…presto change-o and alakazam!"

There was another puff of smoke from behind the curtain, and she stopped turning it lazily and settled it facing us again.

And the moment it stopped, Duo stepped from behind the curtain, waving aside wisps of smoke and grinning like a loon. "Miss me?"

Chang strode forward, sticking his head inside the box and examining it for hidden compartments.

"Try looking _up_," Duo suggested with a jerk of his head towards the top of the box.

Wufei tilted his head up and his eyes widened. "Aha! So you stuffed yourself up onto a little shelf?"

Duo nodded. "You just have to hop up, grab the bar, and hoist yourself up so your feet are on the little ledge. Then stay still while everyone marvels at the empty box."

"Clever."

Catherine was smiling at our impressed looks. "There's another type of magic box that has a trap door in the floor. The person chosen to disappear drops down through it into a crawlspace under the floor, or platform, and then can scramble out and magically 'appear' somewhere in the audience."

"There's all sorts of contraptions stored here," Duo told me, tugging on my hand. "They've got different colors of smoke, too, and some that make a loud bang when you set 'em off." He pulled me to a workbench, and pointed out canisters of powder and little cardboard packets in which to measure them.

I looked over my shoulder at Catherine. "You're letting him play with explosives? When I told you to distract him, that wasn't what I had in mind."

"They aren't _very _explosive," she insisted. "They just make a flash, a bang, and a puff of smoke. Honestly, you'd have to set one off on your own head to even get singed. And the ones we're playing with have to be slammed hard in order to detonate."

Duo picked up a little canvas thing that looked kind of like a sachet, and flung it at the wall. It exploded in a little burst of red smoke, making a sort of "whump" sound. "See?" he said triumphantly. "Couldn't hurt a fly."

Chang and I had both flinched in the expectation of something more—dramatic—and now we both tried to try to look nonchalant again.

"Can't you find something safer to play with?" I asked a bit plaintively.

He grinned lasciviously at me. "I like dangerous toys." A teasing finger hooked in one of my belt loops and tugged me closer. "Wanna play?"

"I'm your toy?" I asked a bit coolly.

He looked up from under his lashes. "You're the biggest, baddest toy I've ever had, Yuy," he said in a throaty whisper. "An' some day when the babysitters are out, I'll teach you how to play some new games."

On the one hand, I wanted to be angry that he was treating our relationship like a game. But on the other, I knew he was just joking, and that the teasing banter distracted him from his worries.

I leaned in close to his ear, letting my warm breath caress his neck. "Trowa _did _say you kind of liked a little bondage now an' then."

He shivered deliciously, and an involuntary groan escaped his lips.

I was instantly reminded of that moment I'd had him pressed down across the hood of Wufei's car, and the fact that when I'd cuffed him and patted him down, there'd been a definite sexual response.

"He wasn't kidding, was he?" I asked in a less teasing tone.

"Depends on who's doing the cuffing," he breathed back. "A little adrenaline rush goes a long way…detective."

It sure did—and the thought of that adrenaline-charged chase through the alleys, the capture, and his subsequent response created a tantalizing image.

"Jesus Christ get a room!" Chang spat, grabbing Catherine's arm and ushering her away from us.

I knew full well they hadn't heard the last exchange—but no doubt they had a fair idea of the subject matter. "Um, maybe we should go help with supper," I suggested, pulling myself back to the present with a bit of effort.

"Or we could stay here and see if we both fit in that box—."

I shook my head. "As erotic as the smell of gunpowder is, I'd rather fuck you through a mattress than a wooden crate."

He laughed aloud, sounding wonderfully carefree, and I decided that Catherine's distractions were having the desired effect; Duo wasn't obsessing about our precarious situation. I made a mental note to thank her later.

* * *

It took very little time to prepare supper, after which we played cards again, a diversion that seemed to occupy Duo enough to keep the shadow of worry off his face. And as an added bonus, I got to hear stories about his and Catherine's shared past. I never tired of learning more about the man I loved and his life before I knew him.

Amazingly, I also learned a lot about Wufei. My partner wasn't as forthcoming with information as the other two; but when the conversation turned towards his areas of interest, he'd often join in and share a story of his own.

I found out he'd been a bookworm as a child—more interested in scholarly pursuits than the crime fighting he later turned to. And he'd grown up as part of a clan, though now most of them were dead, or scattered throughout the country. I began to realize his solitary nature wasn't something he was born with, but something he'd cultivated as he lost people he cared about.

It was both sobering and reassuring to realize how much we had in common in that regard. And I thought that if Duo hadn't had the orphans and Trowa, he might very well have become as isolated and aloof as my partner and I had been.

Yes, the use of the past tense was deliberate. I couldn't think of myself as quite the same loner I used to be. The constant exposure to Duo, and then Trowa and Quatre, as well as brushes with folks like Rhonda, Howard, and the kindly farmer in the pickup truck, had left me feeling more connected to the human race than I'd felt in years.

It was something I didn't think I'd want to give up in a hurry. And as I looked at Wufei's relaxed smile and the warm glimmer of his eyes while he told Catherine a story about trying to convince his cousin that the fish in his uncle's koi pond could talk, I guessed that he might feel the same way.

When the phone rang, it was a jarring interruption of our rather intimate gathering.

Catherine struggled to her feet, scowling at her crutches as she fumbled to get them in position. "It's a damn good thing this stupid cast is coming off tomorrow," she growled irritably, thumping her way into the hall to answer the ringing.

"Tomorrow?" Duo asked, giving me a questioning look.

I shrugged. "Guess so. I know she said it'd be a few days, when we first got here—so that would be about right."

"Well, shit," he muttered. "I should make a cake or somethin' for her—to celebrate the occasion."

Wufei smiled at my lover. "That's a wonderful idea," he agreed. "I'm going to drive her into town in the morning. I can pick up any ingredients you need while she's at her doctor's office."

Duo gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Want me to make the cake big enough for you to jump out of?"

Chang sighed and rolled his eyes. "Small and simple would be just fine, Maxwell. Just enough to make the occasion memorable."

"What could be more memorable than you jumping out of a cake?"

"I don't know—maybe _you _biting your tongue once in a while."

"Heh. Good one."

"Seriously, though—I'd appreciate it if you'd just make a simple cake for Catherine."

"You got it," grinned my lover. "I'll jot down a list of what I need."

He was rummaging through an end table drawer for a pencil when Catherine's call from the hallway interrupted their planning session. "Duo! Trowa wants to talk to you!"

Duo's face lit up, and he all but vaulted the couch in his hurry to get to the hallway.

My partner shook his head. "I don't know how he does it, Yuy. After all he endured as a child and a young man—how can he have such exuberance?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "And I don't care. All I know is I want him to make it through the trial with his personality and life intact."

"Hm." Wufei frowned thoughtfully. "The defense attorneys will no doubt do their best to destroy both." His dark eyes narrowed. "They'll try to discredit him in any way they can."

"I know. And since we're not supposed to bring him in until the last minute, Noventa won't have much time to prepare him for the kind of cross-examination they'll pull."

"Then maybe we should," came the tentative suggestion.

I looked up sharply. "Coach a witness? Chang, that's not—."

"I'm not suggesting 'coaching' him, per se. But we can certainly warn him about what to expect…let him know they'll make an issue of his past…his gang affiliation, the stripping, and anything else they can dig up."

"You don't think he knows they'll play dirty?"

He shook his head. "For all his street smarts, he can be incredibly naïve about certain things—testifying for the cops being one of them."

"Good point," I admitted. "He's probably never been on the witness stand, except to defend himself."

Chang nodded agreement. "So—perhaps we should casually discuss how important it will be for him to retain his composure, no matter what they throw at him. We can gently remind him that even when they take cheap shots, he needs to stay calm, cool and collected, if he's to appear credible to the jury."

I nodded, trying not to scowl in worry.

"Relax, Yuy. If he can keep his wits about him with bullets flying, I'm willing to bet he can handle an aggressive defense attorney or two."

"Even Septum and Catalonia?"

"Even them."

Duo padded back into the room, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Your turn, 'Ro. Trowa wants to whisper a few sweet nothings in your ear." He went back to looking for a pencil and something on which to scribble a list.

"Right." I shook my head and tried not to smirk as I headed for the hallway.

When she passed the phone to me, Catherine had a sort of wistful look on her face, and it crossed my mind that she was a bit envious of Barton being at the circus while she was still sort of stranded on the outside. It made me glad Duo and Wufei were going to do something special for her the next day.

"Hello Barton." I very deliberately didn't say "Yuy here," on the outside chance that the wrong ears might hear. "Any news?"

"Nothing I'm sure the television stations haven't covered," he replied, sounding a bit disgusted. "I spoke to a mutual friend, who said there's no change to the timetable, and that your previous plans are still in place."

I guess on some level, I'd expected him to have instructions from Captain Po on when and where to bring Duo in. "You mean, we're just—laying low?"

"For the time being."

"Aren't we cutting things a bit close?"

"It seems you have to. In fact, from the sound of it, you'll be cutting them very, very close—as far as the timing goes."

In other words, we were to wait until the trial began—over a week away. "I don't suppose there's any word on how information keeps leaking?"

"Not that I've heard. But then, being on the road with the circus kind of keeps me busy." He was keeping the conversation light and vague. I doubted anyone eavesdropping would get much out of it, unless they knew exactly who the players were and what the plan was. "If I hear anything, I'll certainly keep Catherine informed, and she can update you."

"Sounds good." And it did sound good. It sounded for all the world like he didn't expect us to be with Catherine, but merely keeping in touch—yet another little deception to keep anyone potentially listening in off-balance.

But wasn't I paranoid as all Hell? It wasn't even as if Barton were calling from the precinct. Here he was calling from a pay phone near the circus, after talking via cell phone to Quatre, who was the one who'd actually spoken to Captain Po in person. If anyone could follow that chain of information closely enough to think of tapping some random pay phone on the off chance that Barton might use it—well, then we were probably royally screwed anyway.

"Anything else I need to know?" Barton asked, breaking into my long silence.

"Oh. No. Sorry—I just—drifted for a minute there," I said haltingly. "I don't mean to be overly cautious, but—."

"I know," he said warmly. "And I thank you for it."

"Yeah." I drew a deep breath. "Just—keep your wits about you. Watch your back, and try not to be too predictable—just in case. Tell our mutual friend the same, especially considering he's more in the thick of things."

"I'm very aware of that," he said with a hint of tension. "I worry about him."

"You should. Right now he's probably taking the biggest chance of all." I realized that wasn't what Winner's lover needed to hear, so I added a bit more. "But you know he's up to the challenge, don't you?"

"I sure hope so."

I guessed maybe Barton was recalling the car bomb—wondering if Quatre would become a target again.

"I can guarantee you, he's always one step ahead of the competition. He's as brilliant as they come."

"Hot, too," came the response—a rather weak attempt at humor.

"I wouldn't dare comment on that," I smirked in reply. "But you're probably right."

"Sure am." Trowa finally managed a chuckle. "Thanks for the reassurance. And you stay safe—all of you."

"You too. Goodbye."

I put down the phone to find Catherine's calculating gaze on my face. "How dangerous is what Trowa's doing?"

"Actually, I'm more concerned about Quatre," I told her frankly. "He's the one who's in direct contact with my captain. And Khushrenada's people know he helped us out by providing the first two safe houses we used."

"Is he in danger?"

"Unless someone realizes he's got a contact person he's using to reach us—I don't think so," I hedged. "They might even figure that since he's at the precinct, he's dropped out of the picture. And it would make sense. After having two houses shot to Hell, why would he want to risk more?"

"Two?" she asked weakly. "They've found you twice?"

I nodded. "Do you see why we're so fanatical about security?"

"I guess I do—now," she admitted. Her worried gaze drifted towards the living room. "Are you really going to be able to get him to the trial alive?"

I didn't even hesitate—couldn't afford to have enough of a doubt to make me hesitate. "Absolutely," I swore firmly.

She managed a small smile. "I sure hope so."

We went back into the living room with our expressions as relaxed as we could manage, considering the situation.

"What did he have to say?" Wufei asked, dealing out the cards for one more game of gin rummy.

"Not much," I shrugged.

"No word on when, where, or how we're supposed to bring Maxwell in?" Wufei looked up at me with a frown.

"Apparently not."

"We're running out of time," he pointed out.

"I know that."

"The trial begins in just over a week," he added.

"Yes, I know!" I said sharply. "And I'm as unhappy about being stuck in limbo as you are. But our instructions are still to just lay low."

He scowled at his cards, clearly not liking the lack of a working plan. "What are we supposed to do—show up at opening arguments?"

"Looks that way," I admitted. Seeing Duo looking at me with a faintly worried expression, I gave him a reassuring smile. "How d'you feel about crashing a trial?"

He snorted wryly. "Well why not?" he joked. "Maybe inna bullet-proof limousine?"

We all chuckled in spite of the gravity of the situation, though Wufei looked a bit pensive. "That's not entirely unreasonable," he pointed out. "Perhaps an escort should be arranged. It's the least Po could do for us."

"I'll tell Barton to pass along the request next time he calls," I promised.

* * *

We didn't stay up much later after that—only long enough to finish the game we were partway through when Trowa called.

Then Duo tossed the remainder of his cards into the middle of the coffee table and stood and stretched, exposing that strip of flesh just above the waistband of his jeans. "That's enough cards for me."

I edged in behind him, resisting the urge to slip my arms around him and touch that bare skin.

"I'll take the night shift," Wufei spoke up, gathering the cards to put them away. "The rest of you may as well head for bed." He gave Catherine a lingering glance. "What time is your appointment?"

She smiled brightly, glancing over at the clock. "It's at eight-thirty…a mere ten hours from now." Picking up the little coat hanger she'd made into a device to scratch down inside the cast where she couldn't reach, she gave a perfectly vicious grin. "I cannot wait to throw this damned thing away and scratch my ankle for real!"

Duo chuckled at her expression and then turned and pressed himself up against me, his hot breath tickling my ear. "I've got an itch that needs scratching…"

I swallowed hard, nearly groaning aloud. "Uh—okay."

"When I get back from the clinic," Catherine was continuing, oblivious to what Duo was doing to me, "I'm going to take the longest, hottest bath in history."

"Good choice of words," Duo purred quietly. "Long…_hot_…take me to bed, Yuy."

"See you in the morning," I managed in a voice that wasn't as hoarse as I'd expected it to be. I turned quickly, keeping an arm around Duo's waist to pull him along with me. And once we were in the hallway, I let my fingers slide under the edge of his shirt to touch his stomach. "Dammit, Duo—you are a tease!"

"Aw, you ain't seen nothin' yet," came the smug reply. "I'm gonna drive you crazy tonight—tease you within an inch of your life." He bumped his hip against mine as we walked. "All that talk about handcuffs and tight spaces made me so hot I could barely concentrate on making supper."

"What do you think it did to me?" I turned him to face me, and shoved him back against the door of our room, pinning his hands over his head and claiming his lips in a demanding kiss.

He whimpered into the kiss, rocking his hips against mine so I could feel how very hard and needy he was. I had a feeling it was going to be like our first time again—fast and wild.

But then he pulled away, a teasing smile on those luscious lips. "Oh no, Yuy—not so fast. You're gonna have to work for it tonight."

I gave him a puzzled look.

He held up the handcuffs that he'd pilfered from my hip pocket. "Ever been on the receiving end of these?"

The very thought made me blink in surprise. "W-what?"

"Ah. I didn't think so." His eyes were dark with lust. "How much d'you trust me, love?"

I swallowed—hard.

His gaze traced the motion of my throat as I swallowed, and he licked his lips, easing closer. "You're all about control, aren't you?" he said in a husky tone. "You like being the one in charge—the one with the authority." He leaned in to nip at my ear and slide teasing lips down my neck. "But you liked it when I had the gun, didn't you? When you didn't have a choice about what to do—couldn't stop what I did to you? You _loved _it."

"I loved it," I echoed, recalling the incredible sensation of his mouth on my cock, even while the cold muzzle of the gun had remained steady against my knee.

"An' I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked gently.

"Fuck no!"

"Then trust me now," he urged, slipping one end of the handcuffs around my left wrist and clicking it into place. He tugged on the metal, pulling me into our room and then kicking the door shut behind us. "Just let me do everything," he said soothingly. "Let go and enjoy."

"When Trowa said you liked a little bondage—I thought he meant you'd be the one in cuffs," I managed in a rather raspy voice, not wanting to admit how turned on I was by the thought of being helpless and restrained under his ministrations.

"Sometimes," he said lightly. "But right now, I want a chance to show you what the big attraction is." He started stripping me out of my clothes with practiced motions, his expression as rapt as a kid opening gifts on Christmas day—and he glanced up with a perfectly brilliant smile. "Good thing we've got all night."

The lust in his eyes along with the implications of his words nearly made me come right then and there. But I should have known he'd never make it that easy. On the contrary, he made good on his promise to drive me crazy—all night.

* * *

When Catherine pounded on our door sometime shortly after sunrise, I could barely pry my eyes open.

"Rise and shine, boys! Breakfast is on the table!"

Duo burrowed further under the blanket, avoiding the rays of sunlight filtering in through the blinds. "Is she fuckin' insane? It's the crack of dawn!"

"She's excited," I mumbled between yawns. "She gets that nasty cast off today."

He moaned wearily. "That's right. Almost forgot…"

"How could you forget? She was counting the hours," I reminded him. "Remember that hot bath she was raving about?"

"Yeah, I thought she'd get the cast off, come home and soak, and _then _freakin' wake us up." He rolled over and yawned. "Wouldn't have taken my time with you last night if I knew we wouldn't get to sleep in."

I smiled at the memory, deciding that losing a bit of sleep was more than worth the extended foreplay he'd inflicted on me the night before. I momentarily flashed back to the feeling of his fingers and lips teasing me into mindless oblivion while I was bound and helpless to reciprocate. By the time we'd consummated the act and he'd released the cuffs, I'd been in such a frenzy of need it had taken two encores to finally sate my hunger.

Not that I'd heard any complaints from him.

"You can stay in bed," I offered generously, slipping out my side before he could try to delay me. "I'll bring your breakfast in here."

Indigo eyes blinked lazily up at me, and a warm smile spread across his face. "A guy could get used to being spoiled like this."

"Don't," I cautioned. "I'm only doing it because when we end up running for our lives from rabid moose and hit men, I'll want you to have something nice to remember."

He chuckled helplessly. "Rabid moose?"

"And hit men."

"Rabid ones?"

"No—I only meant the moose," I teased, heading for the bathroom to try to freshen up before parading out in front of Chang and Catherine.

I don't think either of them was particularly fooled, since I didn't have time for a shower. But at least I was presentable.

"What time are you going to town?" I asked, helping myself to coffee.

"Right after we eat, silly," Catherine chided, using only one crutch as she maneuvered around the kitchen table and took a seat. She eyed Wufei rather challengingly. "And I get to drive on the way back."

He scowled, a protective gleam in his eyes. "You are going to ask your doctor _when _you are allowed to resume driving."

"For Heaven's sake, Wufei. If you folks hadn't come here, who do you think would've been driving all this time?" she demanded.

"How?" I looked at the cast on her right ankle.

"Left-footed," she shrugged.

"Catherine!"

She narrowed her eyes at my partner. "Don't even go there, Chang! I'm not helpless, remember? Before you guys arrived, I was managing just fine on my own."

Wufei looked slightly wounded. On anyone else, I might have called the expression a pout. "Do you not _want _my help?"

Realizing she'd stepped on his pride, she backpedaled rapidly. "Of course I appreciate the help, Wufei!"

He quickly regained control of himself, and then of the situation. "And I enjoy being able to assist. So please, let me do so. I'll drive you to your appointment and back. And when you've regained some strength in that ankle, I'll be happy to let you chauffeur me anywhere you like."

A mischievous gleam entered her eyes. "Anywhere?"

I hid my grin with my coffee cup, as Wufei sputtered and blushed, turning his attention to the food on his plate with a certain amount of desperation. "Of—of course," he stammered. "You know the area much better."

She smirked and winked at me, taking advantage of my partner's averted gaze. "Sure I do," she agreed. "And I'll give you the grand tour—take you on the ride of your life."

I was beginning to understand how much it had mortified Chang to be caught in the middle when Duo and I started flirting, and I turned away to grab a plate and give myself something to do besides watch.

But Catherine's blatant teasing had made Wufei retreat into a sort of uncomfortable silence, and I managed to tune out her whispered apology and his uneasily mumbled reply.

"Well!" I said brightly, borrowing from my lover's methods. "If you two are off right after breakfast, maybe I can do a quick perimeter check before Duo gets up. And I think he said something about sketching the barn and outbuildings."

"Oh—how nice!" Catherine latched onto my senseless chatter and sort of took it from there, expounding on Duo's artistic skill, and some drawings he'd done of the big circus cats, for most of the rest of the meal.

Then, in a mercifully short time, she and Wufei were headed out the door, while I gathered up the dishes I'd offered to wash.

"Drive carefully," I cautioned out of habit, getting a snide glance from my partner. But I caught his gaze with a scowl of my own. "Watch your backs, Chang. Watch for a tail."

"Always," he said with a matching frown. "We won't be followed, Yuy."

I gave a curt nod, and resumed my kitchen chores.

And true to my word, I served Duo breakfast in bed, which devolved into a bit of erotic teasing and then some serious groping. But I pulled away before he could get too far, and made him haul his ass out of bed and into the shower.

"You're no fun at all, Yuy," he growled, peeling the bandaid off his foot before climbing in.

"I've got security to check," I reminded him, trying not to let that open door act as an invitation. I knew damned well I could walk right into that shower with him and do pretty much whatever I wanted.

But it was more important to keep us secure—and with Catherine and Wufei gone, it was my responsibility to be on watch.

I never resented that duty more than when I heard the splash of the hot water, and Duo's moan of pleasure as he indulged in his steamy shower. I wanted to be in there with him—my hands sliding over warm, soapy skin—my fingers burying themselves in luxuriously sudsy hair.

It would have been so easy to forget about the danger and just lose myself in his arms.

But as much as I wanted him, I loved him more—and for that reason I could forego a moment's indulgence for the greater good of keeping him safe. He was trusting me to watch his back. And although _washing _it would have been more fun, I took my responsibility seriously.

"I'll be at the laptop," I called to him, shelving my hormones and fixing my attention on my sworn duty to serve and protect. And if it so happened I was doing both to the love of my life—well it made the job more important, and fulfilling, than ever.


	47. Icing on the Cake

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

Also, the dream sequence is TOTALLY one-hep-cat's fault, because of her review of the previous chapter!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Seven: Icing on the Cake

I half expected Duo to stroll out to join me wearing nothing but a towel. However, he sauntered out fully dressed, yawning widely as he tied off the end of his braid.

"Need caffeine, Yuy," he muttered, leaning to place a quick kiss on my cheek before continuing to the kitchen.

"I brought you coffee with your breakfast in bed," I reminded him.

"Not enough," came a reply mouthed through yet another yawn. "Wore off. The effort of showering used it all up."

I found myself grinning at the computer screen. "Wuss!"

He peeked around the corner at me. "You did _not _just call me a wuss!"

"You don't see anyone else here, do you?"

"Asshole."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I got no more sleep than you did—and I'm fine." Okay, that was a lie; I was exhausted. But I wasn't going to admit it to him.

"Of course you are! I did most of the work last night."

"Well then I'll be happy to slap the cuffs on _you _tonight. Y'know—return the favor."

He grinned evilly. "Uhm…not unless you've got a gag, too. I get kinda vocal when I'm—restrained."

_Oh fuck._

I closed my eyes, shifting in the seat to ease the sudden pressure in my groin. "A gag it is," I managed a bit hoarsely, trying not to let an image of him bound and gagged force its way into my mind.

_Yeah, right._

He chuckled in satisfaction, knowing the problem he'd just caused, and went back into the kitchen to obtain more coffee.

_The bastard._

I pulled my attention back to the task at hand, zooming the mini camera in on a distant ship passing on the horizon. I could make out U.S.S. something on the side, and breathed a sigh—it was not only a military vessel, but far too large to come anywhere near the shore.

Aside from that passing ship, the (should I say it?) coast was clear. Heh. Now I knew where that expression came from. I think the sleep deprivation was making me a bit punchy.

"Hey, 'Ro—d'you think Chang would like that tarragon chicken I made before? Cathy's never had it, and I've got the ingredients here."

"Sounds good." I frowned at the sight of Catherine's car, returning sooner than I'd have expected. "Speak of the devil—he's back. You can ask him yourself."

My partner burst in the door moments later, a packed grocery bag in hand. "I've only got a moment," he said a bit breathlessly. "Catherine's doctor had an emergency first thing this morning, which delayed his appointments. I left her waiting her turn and said I'd bring back coffee and Danish."

He shoved the bag into Duo's arms. "Here are the supplies you needed, and I'll try to buy enough time for you to bake the cake and hide it away. There's no health food store in town, but Catherine said there's one a few miles up the coast—so I'm going to drive her there for the ingredients for her foot soak. That should allow you ample time, right?"

Duo blinked a bit dazedly. "Wow, 'Fei. I don't think you've ever said that many words in a row before. Did you remember to breathe?"

"Just make the cake, Maxwell!" he growled in reply.

"No problemo," smirked my lover. "How's tarragon chicken sound for supper?"

Wufei's eyes seemed to glaze over just a bit. "Divine," he said earnestly.

Duo smiled warmly. "Why, thank you, 'Fei."

Chang rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a small smile. "Later!" he said curtly, nodding to me and then striding back out as quickly as he'd come in.

"Who was that masked man?" Duo quipped, taking his armful of groceries out to the kitchen to start his baking.

I continued to monitor the surveillance, enjoying the comfortable routine, even as I listened to the clatter of dishes and rattle of silverware. Though I hadn't admitted it to Duo, I was a bit tired myself, and grateful that I had an uncomplicated task at hand for the time being.

* * *

It was time for dessert, and Catherine was sitting at the table when Duo wheeled out an enormous layer cake, at least three feet tall in the center, and probably more than that in diameter.

Catherine's eyes grew round as saucers, and she gushed "Oh, Duo, you shouldn't have!" Then she looked around quizzically. "But where did Wufei go?"

The lights went down and music came up—rather risqué music—with a sensual beat.

Duo grinned at Catherine. "Wait for it…"

And then Wufei burst from the top of the cake, wearing a tiny little leopard print g-string and nothing else. It looked like he'd oiled his body, as it gleamed in the faint light of the strobes.

_Strobes?_

Wufei climbed out of the cake, his leg muscles rippling with the motion, and struck a pose—the classic muscle-man pose—with one arm up, flexed to show the bulging muscle of his bicep, and one arm down, displaying a well-developed tricep.

Catherine clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, just what I wanted!"

* * *

I jerked awake suddenly, gasping aloud.

"Easy there!" Duo chided. I realized his hand was on my shoulder and he was leaning in close. "Dozed off, huh? Now who's the wuss?"

I blinked and looked around, momentarily wondering where the tall cake and my nearly-naked partner had gone. "Jesus—," I muttered.

Duo looked at me quizzically. "What? Were you having a nightmare or something? You kept saying '—the horror.'"

I shook my head, willing the image of my partner away. Not that Chang had a body to be ashamed of or anything, but I'd never, ever looked at him that way, and didn't want to start now. "Just a dream," I sighed.

"Must've been a doozey."

"You have no idea."

"Wanna see the cake?" he asked, gesturing to the kitchen. "I made three layers."

_Three layers? _An image of the dream cake floated in my mind's eye, and I tried not to shudder.

"It's done already?"

"Well, it's out of the oven. You slept for over an hour," he chided. "Once the cake cools off, I can get to work frosting it."

I frowned, glancing at the laptop to see if there'd been any activity.

"Relax, detective. You didn't miss anything," he said soothingly, his hands beginning to massage my shoulders gently. "I looked at the screen a couple of times, and it all looked quiet. No alarms or alerts. You didn't fail me."

I glanced up quickly. "How'd you know—?"

"—that you'd blame yourself for a lapse in security?" he finished for me, smirking slyly. "Experience, love. You blame yourself for anything that happens to me, and pretty much anything that _might_." He leaned down to brush a kiss across my cheek—a very chaste, caressing one. "No one has ever loved me so much," he whispered.

I put a hand over one of his, leaning back into him. "I do," I assured him. "More than anything or anyone."

"More than your own life," he added very seriously. His grip on my shoulders tightened. "Just remember, as important as my life is to you—yours is to me."

I nodded, accepting the statement of fact, and feeling a bit of a rush that my sense of completion in Duo's company was reciprocated. The idea of us ever parting ways was just ludicrous. I planned to spend the rest of my life getting to know Duo, exploring his body and his mind, and letting him do the same to me. I think I was pretty amazed that he _wanted _to do that. No one had ever been so—fascinated by me. Yeah, it was a heady feeling all right.

"So, what was the big dream about?" he said lightly, pulling away and heading back towards the kitchen.

"Chang jumping out of a cake," I said, forgetting myself for an instant.

Duo whirled around, his face alight. "No shit?" He burst into delighted laughter. "Oh man! Just 'cause I suggested it—you dreamed it? Ha! That's classic!" He chuckled helplessly for a few more minutes, while I deeply regretted blurting out the truth. "Aw, what was he wearing?" he asked wiping tears of hilarity from his eyes and grinning madly at me.

"Forget it."

"No—ya gotta tell me!" he persisted.

"Not in a million years."

"Nothing?" he guessed.

"No."

"Sequins?"

"No."

"Leather?"

"No!"

He blinked those big indigo eyes. "You know I'm just gonna keep pestering you until you tell me."

"Duo—."

"Lace?"

"A fucking g-string, okay?" I snapped, glaring at my computer screen, though I wasn't really seeing it.

His laughter rang out again. "Man! You have the _best _dreams!" I looked up in disbelief, and he winked roguishly. "Chang's hot."

"Not in a leopard print thong," I retorted.

"Leopard print, huh?" Duo eyed me speculatively. "Hm, maybe that's a subliminal attraction to Trowa coming to the surface, eh?"

"I am not attracted to Barton," I said icily.

He turned to face me, a skeptical look on his face. "Right."

"Seriously."

"Bullshit. When Tro' an' I did that little strip show for you guys, I saw you looking."

"I was looking at you."

"And I was all over _him_. You got an eyeful of both of us—and don't try to tell me you don't think Tro's hot as Hell."

"I didn't say that," I replied coolly. "He's a handsome man." I let my gaze rake Duo from head to toe, watching a faint blush creep up his cheeks. "But _you _are the one I'm attracted to. It takes more than a gorgeous body or a pretty face to attract me, Duo."

"Yeah?" he asked kind of breathlessly.

"Yeah," I answered. "I'm attracted to _you_. Not just your looks. The whole damn package."

A sly glimmer entered his eyes, and he grinned cheekily. "You like my 'package'?" he teased.

"I meant the personality and brains and body—the _whole _package."

He ducked his head, looking adorably flattered.

"And, well, _that _package is pretty nice, too," I added mischievously, letting my gaze drop to his groin.

"Yuy!" He actually blushed brightly as he turned and fled back into the kitchen, and I allowed myself a pleased chuckle at having flustered him.

Life was good.

Once I was fully awake, I took a quick trip to the bathroom, and then made my way out to the kitchen, only to find Duo immersed in his work—and apparently powdered sugar. His clothes were liberally sprinkled with the stuff, and there was a smudge across his chin. But he looked so content stirring some gooey substance in a bowl that I didn't have the heart to point out the mess he was making—or the mess he was.

"I'm going out to walk the perimeter," I told him, peeking into the coffee pot to see if there was enough left from the morning to bother re-heating in the microwave. "Want to tag along?"

He looked at the bowl for a moment, scowling in frustration. "I guess not," he sighed. "I'm right in the middle of this, and I need to make at least one other batch to mix colors in."

"Colors?"

"Frosting," he explained patiently. "I'm going to need colors for decorating and writing 'congratulations' or something."

"Congratulations?" I chided. "You've _got _to come up with something a bit better than that."

"I will. I just haven't given it much thought yet." He gave me a sidelong glance. "I don't think 'break a leg' would be appropriate."

I chuckled in spite of myself. "No."

I decided that re-heating the morning coffee would just be disgusting, so I dumped it out and began setting up the machine for a fresh batch, figuring I could turn it on when I got back from my walk.

"Good idea," Duo commented, reaching for the box of little food coloring containers. "I think we could both use a fresh pot."

"Don't let Chang hear you say that," I cautioned teasingly. "You know how he feels about pot."

"Har har. I meant a pot of coffee, and you know it." He shook his head, smirking to himself. "But I'm glad you've developed a sense of humor."

"So am I. See you in an hour or two." I placed a quick kiss on his cheek and went to the front hall to get my coat, shrugging into it and checking my gun before I pulled open the front door.

* * *

There was a brisk wind blowing off the ocean and flattening the scrubby grass along the cliffs, and I was glad I'd worn the extra layer. I'd also brought along the remote monitor for the laptop, so I could tap into my surveillance devices as I moved around.

As it had been the last time Chang and I walked the property, all was quiet. I scanned the horizon for boats, and scrutinized the beach from my vantage point along the cliffs. I even hiked the long distance to the state land and looked over the start of the trails again.

Only when I was completely satisfied that there was no one approaching in any direction did I head back to the farmhouse, eager for that cup of coffee and maybe a taste of the chicken dinner Duo would surely be working on by now.

I was climbing the porch steps when the remote beeped in my pocket, and I logged into the surveillance to see that Catherine's car had just turned off the main road onto the long drive leading to the house.

I hurried inside, walking briskly past the kitchen, and sliding into my seat at the laptop. "Showtime, Duo!" I called out, hearing a clatter and yelp right afterwards.

Did I even want to know?

"You okay, Duo?"

"Uh—yeah. Fine."

He didn't sound "fine." So I got up and padded to the door, peeking around the corner to see him trying to pick a clump of blue frosting out of his chestnut braid.

My laughter startled him into spinning to face me, a batter-covered spoon in one hand, and his hapless braid in the other.

"Asshole!" he accused, trying now to wipe a splatter of cake mix off his dark jeans.

I walked over and took the utensil out of his hand, leaning in close. "You are adorable with frosting in your hair, love." I kissed him before he could cuss me out, enjoying the sweet taste of his frosting-laced lips. "Mmm—delicious, too."

He pushed me back, his sticky hand leaving an imprint of batter and frosting on my shirt. "Jesus, Yuy—y'didn't get enough last night?"

I shook my head, grinning devilishly. "Never enough," I crooned suggestively. "I want to lick frosting off your bare chest, and—."

The sound of the garage door opening startled us apart, and I stepped back guiltily, glad I hadn't had time to do more than start unbuttoning Duo's shirt.

He chuckled, leaving those top three buttons undone as he hastily slipped the cake behind him and turned to face the door—trying to look innocent.

He almost managed to pull it off, except for the mischievous sparkle in the indigo eyes.

God, I loved him!

The door opened, and I quickly leaned beside him on the counter, helping to screen the cake from view.

"Hey, sweetcheeks—how'd it go?" Duo said cheerily as Catherine walked carefully in, leaning on a cane.

She beamed a wide smile his way. "Terrific! The minute that nasty plaster came off, I got to reach an itch that's been bothering me for weeks!"

"Her doctor was very pleased with the healing, but recommended she use a cane for a few days—more as a reminder for her to be careful than anything else," Chang added with a hint of worry in his tone.

She twirled the cane like a baton, giggling a bit. "Wanna see me dance?"

Chang caught her elbow, scowling gently down at her. "No dancing!" he scolded. "You are to proceed to the couch and relax, while I prepare an herbal soak for your ankle." He hefted a brown bag, overflowing with packets of who-knew-what. "Maxwell—escort the lady, if you please."

Duo promptly whisked Catherine into the other room, completely diverting her attention from the cake paraphernalia scattered across the counter.

"Great. Help me tidy up, Chang," I ordered curtly.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the cake, which thankfully was far too small for him to jump out of. I really didn't need a repeat of my dream.

Duo had frosted it in white, trimming it with green leaves and blue and yellow flowers. "Happy Castoff Day" was emblazoned in bright red, and little hearts dotted the surface.

"It's lovely," Wufei said with a wide smile.

I just shook my head. "Merquise taught him cake decorating?"

"No—Sister Helen did," came a voice from the doorway.

I turned to find Duo leaning there, smirking at us.

"She always made a birthday cake for each kid at the orphanage. And she decorated with whatever they liked the most—flowers, puppies, trucks; you name it, and she could draw it in colored frosting. She let the older kids help."

Wufei blinked in surprise. I think he was stunned at Duo's warm tone and the nonchalant way he gave us a glimpse into a private part of his past.

"Well, your talent must have pleased her very much," he said, his own voice a bit husky.

Duo smirked derisively. "Well maybe _that _talent," he grinned, pushing off of the door frame and sauntering over. "I'm makin' tea for Cathy. You guys want some?"

"I'll stick to coffee," I replied, recalling that I'd set up the machine already, and reaching over to turn it on.

"I'll have tea," Wufei replied, setting down the grocery bag and beginning to pull out sacks of herbs. "Can you put an extra pot of water on to boil for the foot soak?"

"Sure."

They settled in to their respective tasks, while I occupied myself washing dishes until my coffee was ready. By the time Duo carried a tray out to Catherine, the kitchen was almost spotless again, and I was pouring my first cup.

"Any news in town?" I asked Chang.

"I picked up a paper." He passed it to me from his grocery bag, and then turned back to his pan of water that was, by now, boiling merrily.

Of course the upcoming trial was still front page news, complete with speculation about Maxwell's whereabouts. Khushrenada's defense team was alleging there was no witness and that the police had merely spread the rumor of one to justify their search warrants for his home and office. They claimed we were just "fishing for evidence where none existed." They pointed out the Khushrenada had several employees willing to swear he'd been at his office all night when Merquise was killed. They even went so far as to suggest that because of Maxwell's disappearance, he should be the prime suspect in the case.

"Well shit."

Wufei snorted at my disgusted expletive, busily dumping herbs into the hot water. "Don't take it seriously, Yuy. We knew they'd play dirty. And if you recall, Duo _was _our first suspect."

"Only for the amount of time it took to fully process the crime scene."

He shrugged. "They have a valid point. We can only hope forensic evidence will reinforce Maxwell's testimony."

"If this has all been for nothing—."

"It hasn't!" he said sharply. "If nothing else, it brought you and Duo together, didn't it?"

I paused as his words sank in, and then smiled grudgingly. "Yes, it did." I gave him a genuinely grateful look. "Thanks for reminding me." He was right—it was worth every ordeal we'd faced. _Duo _was worth it. I was just surprised it took Wufei to remind me of that.

He merely smiled and nodded, pouring some of his herbal mixture into a bucket he'd found in the hall closet, and adding some cold water to bring down the temperature. "Glad to be of service." He picked up the container and headed out the door.

"It brought you and Catherine together, too," I called after him.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back and me, and gave a curt nod. "So it did."

I picked up my coffee and Wufei's nearly-forgotten cup of tea, and followed him into the living room, where he was already sliding the bucket under Catherine's leg.

I chose a spot on the couch next to Duo, noticing he'd tuned the television to an old sit-com, instead of the midday news. I had a feeling he'd done it to avoid seeing himself on national television yet again, and I didn't blame him.

"You're next, Duo," Wufei said, taking a swig of tea before heading back to the kitchen.

"Next for what?"

"A foot soak—for the one you've got stitches in."

Duo looked up in surprise. "Feels fine, Chang."

"And it will feel even better after an anti-bacterial soak," Wufei called back from the kitchen.

I took Duo's hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Let him have his way," I said firmly. "We need you in top form as quickly as possible, and he seems to know what he's doing."

Catherine gave an emphatic nod. "You wouldn't believe how wonderful this soak feels on my ankle."

"That's just 'cause you haven't been able to get that foot wet for weeks," Duo teased. He wrinkled his nose. "I hope Wufei put some anti-odor stuff in that concoction."

Wufei came back in then, with a large, steaming bowl of liquid. "Maxwell—do you still have your shoe on?"

Duo hastily began unlacing a boot. "Sheesh. Bossy, aren't ya?"

"I'm merely trying to administer treatment to two very recalcitrant patients," came the huffy reply.

Wufei put the bowl in front of the couch, and as soon as Duo discarded his sock, he lifted his foot and dunked it in.

"Hm—not bad," Duo conceded, wriggling his toes in the warm mixture.

"Of course it's not," my partner replied firmly. "It's soothing and curative. It has herbs to sanitize the foot, promote healing, and even soften and condition the skin."

Duo eyed the bowl warily. "So—what? It's like a liquid pedicure?"

"Somewhat."

Duo's gaze slid over to Catherine, who was leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed in bliss. "Next thing ya know, Cath, he'll have us doing each other's hair and nails, for chrissakes."

She giggled and opened her eyes, fixing a fond look on Wufei, who promptly blushed and turned his full attention to his cup of tea. "I think it's sweet that he's taking such good care of us, Duo. And I'll take all the pampering I can get."

Duo put his shoulder against mine, smirking up at me, and leaning to whisper in my ear. "She's _so _got a crush on your partner, Yuy."

"No shit," I replied dryly. "Now how 'bout you relax—and explain to me why the people on this television show have a pig that walks in and out of the house any time it wants."

He gave a delighted burst of laughter and began explaining the plot intricacies of "Green Acres" to me.

* * *

A bit later, as the water cooled, Duo abandoned his soak, re-donned his footwear, and retreated to the kitchen to make supper. He'd already put together the chicken casserole during his cake-making endeavors, and thus insisted he needed no help.

Wufei took the opportunity to fetch Catherine a towel and let her dry off her leg while he dumped the used herbal mixture outside. Then he returned with a tube of arnica gel, and massaged a generous amount onto the girl's healing ankle, while she blushed adorably.

Almost as much as _he _blushed.

He finished off his ministrations by wrapping the ankle in an ace bandage for support and protection. "There," he said in satisfaction, placing a slipper on her foot in much the way I pictured Prince Charming putting on Cinderella's glass slipper.

I snickered, but quickly muffled it under my hand, pretending to cough instead.

"You really _are _babying me," Catherine groused half-heartedly as he helped her to her feet and handed her the cane.

He raised a dark eyebrow, not looking remotely apologetic. "And I shall continue to do so until your follow-up visit to the doctor, when he will pronounce you fit to resume normal activities."

She rolled her eyes. "You won't even _be_ here in two weeks," she chided. "Or did you forget you have a trial to attend?"

He did look a little surprised at that, but quickly recovered. "Well then, I suppose I'll continue to 'baby' you, as you call it, until we leave."

Catherine looked appealingly at me, and I shook my head. "Far be it from me to contradict him. Once Chang gets a notion in his head, he's pretty unstoppable."

She gave a frustrated huff and hobbled off down the hall to use the restroom.

Wufei sighed deeply. "Stubborn onna," he muttered under his breath.

"Determined."

He sank back down on the couch, finishing his tea that had long since gone cold. "I don't know, Yuy," he said wearily.

"Know what?" I asked, eyeing him knowingly. "If it's worth all the worrying and fretting?"

He scowled down at the floor. "Life is simpler when one is alone."

"Yes—but emptier as well," I pointed out. I leaned back against the cushions, listening to the sound of Duo moving around in the kitchen, humming to himself as he assembled the evening meal. "You know, Chang, the rewards are worth the risk," I told him. "And I've never known you to be a timid man—afraid to take a few risks now and then."

"I'm not," he said firmly. "But it's one thing to risk one's life or safety—and quite another to risk—."

"—one's heart?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's been a very long time since I was even tempted to risk _that_."

"Maybe it's overdue."

"Maybe it is," he conceded. His dark eyes pinned me with a look that was both amused and rueful. "A fine pair we are—supposed to be all business—and letting our emotions run away with us."

"A fine pair of—humans." I couldn't help the vague smile that touched my lips, and I shook my head at my partner. "Aw, Wufei—aren't we just full of philosophical insights tonight?" I stood and stretched. "I'm going to go check the surveillance, and see if Duo needs help setting the table. When Catherine comes back out, keep her away from the kitchen until supper's ready?"

He nodded, absently fluffing the pillow she'd had behind her back on the chair. "I'm sure I can coax her into a game of cards until Duo calls us to eat."

* * *

The time passed faster than I thought possible, and Duo was calling us to an early supper before I'd finished typing in my observations from my earlier perimeter check.

When I got to the dining room, I found that he already had the table laid out with a clean cloth and probably the fanciest place settings he could find. At least, all four matched, when most of the dishes had seemed to be a collection of odd pieces amassed over the year.

Catherine smiled warmly as Chang ushered her in on his arm. "It looks very nice in here, Duo. What's the occasion?"

"You have to ask?" he teased, walking over to brush a kiss across her cheek. "Congratulations on your freedom from plaster."

She gave a playful shove to his shoulder and took her place at the table, completely missing the sharply jealous glare Wufei directed at Duo.

Duo merely smiled at Wufei and winked smugly, before going to the kitchen and returning with a simmering casserole. "Tonight's special is chicken tarragon, per order of Detective Chang," he announced, setting the dish on the trivet in the middle of the table. "I'll be right back with biscuits and salad."

Catherine gave Wufei a quizzical look. "You ordered chicken tarragon?"

"Duo made it back at Winner's house on the lake," my partner explained, beginning to dish out the meal. "It was delicious. Beyond compare."

"Like _me_," Duo bragged, coming back in with a basket of rolls and a bowl of salad.

_Oh yes! Delicious and beyond compare—that was my lover in a nutshell._

We dug in to a very good meal, giving up conversation in favor of filling our mouths with delicious food.

And by the time we finished polishing off almost the entire casserole, I was wondering if there'd be room for cake after all.

Duo had a pleased expression on his face as he picked up the nearly-empty dish, and headed out to the kitchen for the dessert.

"Oh Wufei," he said, pausing in the doorway and casting a positively evil look my way. "Can you help me in the kitchen for a moment? There's something I need you to jump out of—I mean—help me carry."

I shot a death glare at my lover, warning him not to say a word to Chang about my dream.

He smiled at me—daring me to speak up. But I bit my tongue and subsided into a sulking glower.

Oblivious to our secret battle of wills, Wufei got up to help Duo, and they disappeared into the kitchen.

When a hand reached around the corner to turn the lights down, I all but bolted out of my seat, having an immediate flashback to The Dream. "Duo!"

But instead of wheeling in a huge cake, he let Chang carry out the mercifully normal-sized one, resplendent in candles, while he sang a deliberately off-key "Happy Castoff Day toooo youuuu!"

Catherine's eyes grew round as saucers, and she gushed "Oh, Duo, you shouldn't have!"

_Fucking déjà vu!_

I swore that if she clapped her hands in glee and said "Oh, it's just what I wanted," I'd fucking strangle Duo.

But she simply blushed and looked pleased as they placed the shimmering cake in front of her, and when she blew out the candles, Duo cheered, clapped, and then turned the lights back on.

"It's really pretty," Catherine said, as Wufei passed her a knife to cut the cake. "Seems a shame to eat it."

"No it doesn't," Duo said quickly. "It's made to be eaten." He sought my gaze across the table and mouthed the words "—like me!"

I rolled my eyes and tried not to think about the taste and feel of him. Needless to say, I failed.

Catherine passed a fat slice of cake over to me, and continued cutting, while Wufei held plates for her.

"I wanted to make you a cake Wufei could jump out of," Duo told Catherine conversationally, watching out of the corner of his eye for my reaction. "But Mister Proper Chang wouldn't play along."

"Oh Duo!" she said as if scolding a naughty child.

_Naughty indeed!_

"Bet he'd look great in a nice thong, though," Duo continued, taking a forkful of cake and pretending to be very interested in it.

I choked on a bite and hastily took a swig of milk to wash it down.

"Maybe a leopard print," Duo mused. "Like the one Tro' wore at The Jungle…"

"Enough Maxwell!" Chang snapped, fixing a fierce glare on my lover. "You will _not _speculate about how I'd look in a—a—_thong_! I shall never be caught dead in such a thing!"

"Pity," Duo mumbled, glancing up from under his lashes to fix a sorrowful look on my partner.

For some reason, the way his gaze slipped over Wufei caused a sudden upwelling of jealousy that made my breath catch, and my fist clench around my fork. I considered it the epitome of self-control that I didn't proceed to lunge across the table and drag Duo to our bedroom to remind him just _whose _lover he was supposed to be.

I knew he was probably doing it to bait me—and to bait Chang—but I couldn't stop the irrational emotion. And when I'd finished my cake and milk, I pushed away from the table, muttering something about walking the perimeter, before turning and practically running out the door.

Yes, I knew I was being unfair. I knew full well that my partner was straight and therefore no competition for Duo's affection.

On top of that, I knew damned well that Duo was just teasing—that he had no real interest in Wufei. But for some reason his flirting had gotten to me, and made me feel inexplicably insecure.

I thought about it while I walked—wondering why it bothered me to see Duo flirt with Wufei when it hadn't before. Maybe it was just fatigue and stress. Or maybe it was because of that stupid dream; I couldn't help wondering if Duo was picturing Wufei the way I had.

When I heard the pounding of feet, I whirled, gun in hand, only to find myself staring down the barrel at Duo.

He stopped several feet short of me, breathing a little hard, his cheeks flushed from running. "'Ro?"

"What?" I said curtly, lowering the gun and then shoving it back into my shoulder holster.

It looked like he was fishing for words, his expression tight and uneasy. "Did I—?" He paused, shifting his weight, and then shook his head uncomprehendingly. "What'd I do?"

I opened my mouth to say he flirted with my partner—to call him a slut and a tease—to totally rip him apart verbally. But it wouldn't come out.

Instead I sighed, holding my arms out to the side in surrender. "You didn't do anything," I admitted. "It was all me."

"You?"

"I—got jealous."

_And not for the first time. _

"Of Chang?" he asked flatly—disbelievingly.

I nodded. "Chang…Barton…Merquise…take your pick."

He blinked in disbelief. "Are you shitting me?"

I shook my head, turning my back so he wouldn't see the doubt and insecurity in my eyes.

"Jesus, 'Ro—do you even _know _how hot you are?" Quiet footsteps padded up behind me and warm arms slipped around my waist. "God—there's no one but you! There could _never_ be. I _told _you I fell for you the first time I saw you. And when I couldn't have you, I looked everywhere for someone who even came close. Trowa was great—but he wasn't you. And Zechs—as breathtaking as he was—he was still just a shadow of what I wanted. His eyes were never as blue as yours. And he never took my breath away like you do."

I closed my eyes, soaking up the heat of his embrace and the warm breath against my neck. "And Chang?" I couldn't help asking.

There was a quiet snort of laughter. "He's not even on the radar. For fuck's sake, he's straight, 'Ro. And even if he weren't—he still wouldn't be _you_." His grip tightened. "Do you get it now?"

"Yeah, I do," I sighed, leaning back against him. "I'm just exhausted, Duo. And I'm sorry I'm so—." _Insecure? Possessive? Needy?_

"—in love?" he asked gently.

"Yes. Very much," I admitted.

"Well join the club," he chided, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

"Only if it's exclusive," I warned.

"Very," he assured me. "Only two members."

"Sounds perfect."

"So, how 'bout we go inside and have a private meeting of our very exclusive club?"

"That sounds even better."


	48. The Domino Effect

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Eight: The Domino Effect

Well, they say all good things must come to an end, and of course, our safe haven couldn't last forever. It did, however, allow us a couple more days of prep time before the shit hit the fan.

It started out small. Well, okay, not exactly small. But have you ever heard of the domino effect?

I was at the computer, running a quick diagnostic on my surveillance devices when Wufei came home from a supply run, storming in the door to shove a newspaper under my nose. "Read, Yuy!" he snapped sharply.

I looked down at the National Tattler, and raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you read tabloids, Chang?"

"Since they printed pictures of me!" he snarled.

I blinked in surprise. "What interest would a tabloid have in a cop?"

He narrowed his onyx eyes. "Look and see."

I looked harder at the rag sheet, and my eyes caught a headline in bold print. "Witness in Khushrenada Case Shacked up with Detectives?"

Chang's low growl was answer enough, so I flipped the page open to the article.

"Holy fuck," I breathed in horror. Sure enough, pictures of Chang—and _me_—were spread across the page, highlighted by an article speculating that while Khushrenada cooled his heels awaiting trial, two police detectives were off for a romantic romp with the star witness. "Where'd they get the idea—? Oh."

Apparently, the proprietor of a seedy hotel had seen the news footage of Duo, and recalled the stunning stripper escorting two Asian men into his establishment for a wild threesome.

Someone must have made the connection to the department—or someone leaked the names of the officers protecting Duo. _Our _names. Yuy and Chang were about as Asian as you could get.

"It's—it's—injustice!" shrieked my partner, his face livid.

It sure was. But not for the reason _he _thought.

I didn't care that the writer of the article blew it all out of proportion—or that he took the word of a lowlife sleaze. But he printed our _pictures_!

Where he got photos of Chang and me, I didn't know or care. We'd solved enough high-profile cases in our day to have our pictures in the paper a few times. But for Christ's sake! We'd spent all our time hiding Duo away and figuring no one would notice or recognize either Chang or myself.

Now, that was shot to Hell.

"Holy fucking shit!" I exploded, slamming a fist down on the table. "Chang—this is bad."

"I know!" he snapped back. "Everyone at the precinct will think I'm gay right along with you and Maxwell. Not to mention they'll believe I indulged in a sordid sexual romp with both of you!"

I glared up at my partner. "I meant—the people in town might recognize us and our position here will be compromised."

He paused, obviously considering my words, and then gave a short nod. "That too."

I managed a brief, wry laugh at his messed up priorities. "Look—Chang—there's no need to panic here. At least the pictures are inside the paper. So only someone who bothered to look for the article would see them." I frowned slightly. "Of course, _you _looked…"

"I looked because I saw the words 'shacked up' associated with my name," he said bitterly. "I wanted to know what sort of hogwash they were printing. But I had no idea—." He threw his hands up in frustration. "I'll never live this down."

"Screw 'living it down'," I growled. "We've got to worry about living, first. Depending on how big the local circulation of that rag sheet is—."

"Not very," he assured me, calming slightly. "I'd gone to the next town over for more of the herbs for Catherine's ankle. I don't think they even carry that paper in the general store in town."

"Okay. That's good," I sighed. "That could buy us time."

I glanced down at my watch. "We need to have a quick planning session, and decide how soon to leave."

"Where's Maxwell?"

"He and Catherine are in the bathroom. She's taking out the stitches."

"That's good. I take it he'll be able to handle some strenuous hiking?"

"I believe so." It occurred to me in the midst of our sudden crisis that when we'd hiked before, Duo's footwear hadn't been the most appropriate. "But now that I think about it, he didn't have good hiking boots. Was there a sporting goods store in town?"

"The general store had a limited selection of clothing—mostly work boots and coveralls. You might have to go up the highway to find actual hiking gear."

I nodded, frowning in thought. There was probably time for a quick supply run, and it would be worth it to equip Duo for the walk ahead of us.

At that moment, Duo came sauntering down the hall barefoot, and plunked himself down in a chair. "Look! No stitches!" he grinned, putting his foot up on the edge of the desk.

"Maxwell! You don't put feet up on furniture!" Wufei scolded.

Duo wiggled his toes. "But 'Ro needs to see how nice it healed up." He batted his eyes at my partner. "You, too. After all, you were the one who made me soak it."

I looked at the sole of his foot, glad to see the clean, slightly pink scar and no sign of swelling or irritation. "It looks great."

"Luckily," Wufei added. "Considering we're going to have to start walking—and soon!"

Duo's smile faded and he looked questioningly at me.

"Chang's right," I sighed, wishing my partner weren't so damned blunt at times. "One of the tabloids printed pictures of us—with you. And since we've been going to town for groceries and stuff—."

"—they know where we are," Duo breathed, tensing in his chair.

"Well, they _will_," I admitted, hating the way his jaw tightened and he automatically glanced over his shoulder as if seeing a threat in every shadow.

Catherine's arrival on the scene provided a much-needed distraction. "Duo—I told you not to be running around barefoot yet," she scolded, holding out his socks and boots. "The wound has healed. But the scar tissue is new, and can be easily damaged. You have to protect it."

"Yeah, Ma," he drawled, taking his socks and beginning to pull them on.

"We were just about to have a planning session," I told Catherine, nodding to my partner and Duo. "It seems a tabloid printed pictures of Chang and me. So we have to assume our position is compromised."

She winced, looking at Wufei with concern. "You three have to leave, don't you?"

He nodded reluctantly. "The sooner the better."

Catherine was nothing if not adaptable. She gave a firm nod. "Well, I'll make some coffee and tea, and we'll pull out the maps at the kitchen table so you can prepare." She headed off to carry out her tasks, and Wufei followed behind.

"Give them a minute," I said, catching Duo's arm as he stood up.

He turned, managing a rather wan smile. "Yeah sure. Let 'em have their moment."

I found a smile of my own, recalling a conversation at the lake house. "But _what_ a moment."

Duo grinned and pulled me up into a hug. "D'you remember every word I say, 'Ro?"

"Pretty much," I admitted.

"Good—'cause when this is over, there's three more I want to whisper in your ear, and I'll want you never to forget them."

I shivered, tightening my hold around his waist. "When this is over," I promised.

We waited several minutes, allowing our two housemates to make their tea and share whatever private thoughts they chose, and only when Catherine stuck her head out the doorway looking for us did we join them in the kitchen.

Our planning didn't take long; both Chang and I had already studied the map of the trails, and agreed that heading out on foot was our safest course of action. If we took Howard's car, there was no guarantee of anonymity, and borrowing Catherine's only transportation was out of the question.

"You'll be stranded once you reach a town," Catherine pointed out, busily making sandwiches at the counter while the rest of us discussed our plan. "I mean, it's not like you can take public transportation to the courthouse."

"No, but we can rent a car—or have Trowa come get us," I assured her. "Don't worry. We've got options."

"I thought the Captain was going to send us an escort," Wufei spoke up.

"That's yet another option," I agreed. "But I don't want it to be our only one."

"Still don't trust the leaks in your precinct?" Duo asked with a slightly mocking edge to his voice.

I met his gaze squarely. "No, I don't." I let my fingertips meet his across the table. "Not where your safety is concerned."

"Well, if you need a rendezvous point that's not in a very populated area ," Catherine piped up, walking over to set a plate full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches down. "There's an abandoned amusement park about thirty miles south of here. It's on all the maps, and easy to find. Plus, if you run into bad weather, you could always slip in through the fence and find shelter."

"An amusement park?"

She nodded. "It's been for sale for several months. Everything's in good repair, but at the moment it's closed and deserted." She took a seat between Wufei and Duo. "The circus used to provide some acts there from time to time."

I found the spot on the map that she was talking about, and it appeared that the park was located on an open stretch of coastline. "Hm. That might be the best place to wait while we arrange transportation," I mused. "We could call Trowa from there, and have him get a rental car and either bring it out, or tell us where to pick it up."

"A workable plan," Chang agreed. "The best option so far."

Duo eyed the map speculatively. "Y'suppose there's electricity there?"

"What for?"

He smirked at me. "We could try out the rides."

"Not likely," snorted my partner. "Even if the power's not disconnected, the controls for the power to the rides would be in a locked building."

Duo slipped a skinny piece of metal out of his braid, and twirled it in his fingers. "Think a little thing like a lock could keep ol' Duo Maxwell out?"

"No—but since we don't know how to operate amusement park rides, you can count them out—lock or no lock."

"Spoilsport."

I shot him a sly look. "Don't worry; I'll figure out some way to keep you entertained while we wait for our transportation."

Wufei snorted, gesturing to the map with his free hand. "Let's stick to planning, shall we? How many days worth of food shall we carry, and what sort of weaponry?"

I suddenly realized his other arm—the one he _didn't _use to gesture at the map—was across the back of Catherine's chair. In fact, it was around her shoulders, and the hand was absently stroking a lock of hair.

Biting back the smile that tried to work its way onto my lips, I ducked my head and turned my attention back to the map. "I'll want us each to have two hand guns, and all the ammo we can realistically carry."

"Each of us? Maxwell, too?"

I nodded at Wufei. "He's a good shot, and it's his life at stake."

Chang nodded acceptance, and I saw a pleased and startled look cross Duo's face.

"Food for a week," I added. "The protein bars are lightweight and nutritious, even if they get boring after the first day or two."

"Agreed."

The phone rang as we were listing what supplies we had on hand as well as those we'd need to procure in town before we left.

"I'll get it," Catherine said, slipping out from under Wufei's arm with a small, intimate smile. She pattered off into the hallway, and Duo looked at Chang.

"You be good to her," he said flatly, a clear warning in his tone.

Wufei looked back steadily. "On my honor."

"Heero! Trowa needs to talk to you!"

Catherine's voice held an undercurrent of urgency that made me move quickly to the hallway to take the receiver from her.

"What's the matter, Barton?" I asked without preamble.

He hesitated, and I heard him draw a breath as if he were puffing on a cigarette.

"Come on!" I urged, deeply aware of our precarious situation. "If there's a problem, I need to know—now!"

"Just—I think there are a couple of guys hanging around the circus more than they ought to," he said uneasily.

"Are you sure?"

"Well—no—but I've never seen anyone in a three piece suit at a performance before. And later, I swear I saw the same guy dressed differently, and hanging around after the show with a second man." I heard a bit of noise, as if he were pacing, or walking down a sidewalk.

"Where are you?"

"Right now, I'm headed for a bar. I seriously need a fucking drink, Yuy!"

"Are you being followed?"

"No. Definitely not. But—well, you're the fucking expert! What should I do?"

I felt someone coming up behind me, and turned to see Duo scowling with worry. "Is Trowa okay? What do you mean about being followed?"

I gestured impatiently for him to be silent. "What I want you to do, Barton, if you're absolutely positive no one is following you, is to go somewhere you normally wouldn't. Don't go back to your apartment—or to Winner's office—and definitely don't go near The Jungle."

"You're narrowing down my options, Yuy," he said wryly.

"I know. But you need to drop out of sight. If there are people watching the circus, they're onto you and Winner. They know there's a connection. And it's only a matter of time before they guess what it is."

"I—have a couple of friends I can hang out with, I guess," he said uneasily. "But I don't much like not keeping in touch with Quatre—and you guys."

"It'll be safer," I assured him, "for you as well as us." I rubbed a hand across the bridge of my nose, not pleased with this new development. "Have you told Quatre about your suspicions?"

"Yes. He said to talk to you before I made a move."

"He's a smart man. Has he taken steps to safeguard himself?"

"He promised he would."

"Good. Then you need to concentrate on your own safety." I tried to imagine what a shrewd man like Quatre would suggest for a strategic move at this point. "Here's the deal. We're about to leave our current location anyway. So you won't be able to contact us. All you can do is get someplace secure until the trial starts. After that, you won't be at risk."

"Okay. I'll do that," he agreed. He paused and I heard another long drag on the cigarette. "Is Duo okay?"

"He's fine," I assured him. "He got his stitches out today, and he's ready for anything. Do you want to talk to him?"

"No—I'm too wound up right now. I'd only make him nervous," Trowa predicted. "Just tell him I promised to sic the lions on you if you let anything happen to him, okay?"

"I'll tell him," I said with a smirk, relieved at the joking tone. "And I'm sure he'd tell you to take care of yourself too."

"Or what?" teased Barton. "He'll sic the kids on me? Been there; done that. He made me play the clown at the Fourth of July party for the little monsters."

"Well at least he didn't make you play the Easter Bunny."

I got an honest laugh for my efforts. "Thanks, Yuy. You'll give him ideas. I'll see you guys when the dust settles."

"Be sure that you do."

When I hung up the phone, Duo was right there, his face readably grave. "What the hell's going on with Trowa?" he demanded.

"He's fine," I assured him, taking him by the arms and pulling him closer. "There were some suits hanging around the circus, so he slipped away and called to warn us."

"Slipped away? Did they follow?"

"He's sure he lost them. And now he's going to lay low until the trial. He'll be fine."

Duo looked unconvinced. "This is all my fault," he said miserably. "My friends are in danger, and all because I was stupid and—."

"Duo! They aren't in danger, and you weren't stupid. You were in love."

"I was in lust," he said bitterly. "I was attracted to the money and the lifestyle."

"Bullshit," I said firmly. "You loved Merquise. If it was just about the money, you'd have been living in that penthouse with him—not working your ass off as a bodyguard and helping out at an orphanage."

"But—."

"Shut up!" I snapped fiercely. "We don't have time for you to feel sorry for yourself, or guilty about the situation. We need to prepare ourselves and get the fuck out of here. Understood?"

He flinched at the sharpness of my tone, and then nodded, pulling himself back together. "Yeah, understood."

"Let's get back to the kitchen and finish that list."

We filled Catherine and Chang in on the latest, and decided that I'd be the one to go to town for supplies and hiking boots for Duo, while the others packed our gear and dressed for the cool weather.

I'd have sent Catherine instead, but I wanted to choose the footwear myself, as well as scan the shelves of the store for anything I might have forgotten to put on the list. Plus, it was a chance to scout for trouble—to watch for anything out of place in that remote, quiet town.

And I had no doubt that it would be easy to spot outsiders. Hell—the guy at the general store had noticed me right off the bat. I just hoped he wasn't the type to read tabloids.

* * *

When I pulled up at the store, everything looked peaceful, and I breathed a small sigh of relief, eager to get the items on my short list and get under way.

There was no need to tell Chang I just about jumped out of my skin when that damnable bell above the door tinkled shrilly as I walked in.

_Jesus! Who invented those things?_

Of course the old storekeeper looked up at once, smiling his welcome. "Good to see you again, young fella."

I gave a curt nod. "Good afternoon. Can you point me in the direction of the work boots?"

He gestured towards the back wall. "Not a lot of selection—mostly waterproof boots like the hunters and fishermen wear."

Waterproof was good.

I made my way to the back, and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the limited choices for footwear. They might not have stocked many—but they were the best.

I was trying to decide between a lightweight pair of comfortable leather boots and a heavier pair that was waterproof, when I heard the doorbell jingle again.

"Afternoon, Millie," came the old man's voice.

"Edgar." The voice that acknowledged his greeting was female, and had the same peculiar native drawl as his. A local, I guessed. "You get in that shipment yet?"

"Sure did. I'll go in the back and get your order."

I heard Edgar's heavy tread approaching, and looked up.

"Findin' what you need?" he asked politely.

I held up the boots. "Just trying to decide which pair to buy."

He eyed them critically. "Go for the heavier ones, lad. They'll stand up to hard use a lot better, and they're more comfortable than they look."

I gave a nod and put back the lighter, less durable pair. "I appreciate the advice."

He proceeded through a door into what must have been his stock room, and I made my way to the aisle where camping supplies were located, scanning the shelves for anything we might find useful in our travels.

Rope. Considering the rugged terrain we'd have to cross, it seemed like a good idea to have a coil of rope on hand. I picked one up, along with some small emergency candles. They'd take up minimal space in the packs and might come in handy in a variety of situations.

I heard the stockroom door close, and Edgar's steps returning to the front of the store.

"Heard you had a busy day at the diner," he commented. I assumed he was speaking to the woman at the counter.

"Too busy!"she lamented. "Damned city folks."

"They the ones in that big black car with the tinted windows? I saw it at the gas station around noontime."

"Yeah—that's them," came the female voice. "Pushy bastards. Them in their three piece suits and stuck up attitudes."

_Three piece suits? _

My attention focused sharply on the conversation taking place in the front of the store.

"—wanted imported beer," she was saying. "_Imported_! Where they think we'd get stuff like that in this little town, I just don't know."

"You know them city folks, Millie. Always wanting the fancy brands and designer labels."

"And nosey!" she added indignantly. "Askin' all kinds of questions! Did I notice a couple of Asian men pass through? How 'bout a feller with a long braid and a tattoo? Like I got time to watch every Tom, Dick and Harry that comes through town."

_Jesus fucking Christ! The FBI was in town and asking about Duo and us._

I almost bolted from the store right then and there—but I needed to know more. And I prayed that Millie and Edgar would keep on talking, while I stood shell shocked in the camping supplies.

_What the fuck did you tell them, Millie?_

"Hope you didn't help 'em out," Edgar spoke up. "Sound like gov'ment boys—maybe IRS or narcotics."

"Couldn't help 'em if I'd wanted to—and I didn't," Millie huffed in reply. "I've never seen the guys they were lookin' for. Tattoos? They'd be better off asking after someone like that in winter, when the carnies are in town."

Edgar chuckled. "Yeah, I s'pose so. That time of year, we'd have long-haired, tattooed men, bearded ladies, an' probably a two-headed llama."

She gave a conspiratorial laugh. "Yes, we would. But y'know, them circus folks count as locals in my book. They keep to themselves, and they're polite as can be when they stop by the diner. Never cause me any trouble. An' I'm sure not gonna point 'em out to some fancy-dressed dudes in a sleek black car with dark-tinted windows. Those guys were just trouble, plain and simple."

"How long did they hang around?"

"Not very long after I told 'em the nearest hotel was twenty miles north of here. They were some put out at hearing that. Tore out of the parkin' lot like their asses were on fire."

Shit. If the FBI had been in town for lunch, and had headed north, they were probably already arriving at the next town. And unless I missed my guess, it was the one where Chang had purchased his herbs for Catherine's ankle. If anyone there was shown a picture of Chang and recognized it, the FBI would have confirmation that we were very, very close.

I wanted out of that store in the worst way, but I didn't want to walk past Millie and risk having her put two and two together. It was already too late to worry about Edgar—he'd seen both Chang and me more than once.

"Well here's hoping we've seen the last of them," Edgar spoke up above the ding of the cash register opening.

"Amen to that. You have yourself a nice day, now. And thanks for getting my special coffee brand. The fishermen just love it—keeps 'em coming back real regular."

"You have a nice day, too, Millie. Say 'hi' to Fred for me."

Quiet footsteps crossed the store, and the little bell jangled as Millie left.

I was still standing there digesting the information I'd heard, when Edgar stuck his head around the corner, nearly scaring the shit out of me. "Need any help?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so," I stammered, trying not to show how uneasy I was.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, clearly having noticed. His gaze dropped to the coil of rope in my hand. "You'd be better off with the nylon," he commented, pointing to another type hanging on the wall. "The sea air's hard on fiber."

"Thanks." I took his suggestion and switched ropes, grabbing a roll of duct tape while I was at it.

He held up a brown paper bag. "When I was in the stock room, I remembered Miss Bloom had a special order in for some tea. Would you mind takin' it to her?"

"Oh. Not at all."

"I'll just put it up on the counter in front for when you're done shopping—."

"I'm done."

I wanted to get back to the farm and out of town as quickly as possible. While the conversation I'd overheard seemed to indicate Edgar wouldn't blab to the Feds about our presence here, I wasn't naïve enough to take the chance.

As I was following him to the checkout stand, Edgar glanced back over his shoulder.

"I heard she got the cast off," he said conversationally.

"Yes. Earlier in the week."

"That's good." He continued trying to make small talk while my nerves were screaming at me to hurry up and leave. "Your partner still interested, is he?"

I snorted wryly. "Tell your stock boy it's a lost cause."

He chuckled. "Poor boy—edged out by the new guy."

"All's fair," I shrugged, laying my purchases on the counter.

"Building something?" he asked, looking over the assortment of goods.

"Just a bit of paraphernalia for the act," I lied smoothly. "The lighting and special effects are vital—and it seems like there's always a repair to be made." I glanced towards the door while he rang up the items. The FBI guys might have left earlier, but that didn't mean they wouldn't double back if they got a lead pointing our way.

Edgar looked up and followed my gaze, and then gave a slight smile. "Heard Millie and me talking, did you?"

I shrugged noncommittally.

"Well don't fret about it if you did," he continued. "We're a pretty close community here—don't take to outsiders coming around and snooping." He fixed me with a level gaze. "And we don't talk to them about locals—including you circus folks—if you catch my drift."

"That's nice," I replied, counting out the money for the purchase in record time.

He took it without comment, and started bagging my things, wearing a faint scowl.

"You should relax, young feller," he said a bit gruffly. "I mean what I say. Don't matter where you came from, or what you left behind; we take care of our own out here. And no one's got any love for the revenue folks or Feds."

_I hoped not!_

I nodded. "Got no love for 'em myself," I said vaguely. "And I thank you for the help." I glanced fleetingly at him. "—with the boots and the rope, I mean."

He nodded and smiled knowingly. "Happy to help out. Any time."

I grabbed the bags and headed for the car, deliberately keeping my pace steady and unhurried. If the FBI had left anyone behind to do further investigating, I didn't want to draw attention.

But as far as I could tell, I was unobserved as I left the small town and headed back for the farm.

Considering how open the road was, I don't think anyone could have followed me undetected, which eased my fears a bit as I held the car to the speed limit and flipped out my cell phone, hitting the speed dial for Captain Po's private line.

"Captain Po's office—Relena Darlian speaking—."

"Goddamnit!" I burst out thoughtlessly. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Heero?" came the faint, rather anxious-sounding reply.

"This is supposed to be her private line," I ground out irritably. "Where's the Captain?"

"On another call—I can put you through in a moment—or take a number for her to return your—."

"I'll call back," I snarled. "Tell her to answer her own damned phone in five minutes."

I snapped the phone shut before Relena could say anything else. I was not going to leave a message—not after all the information that had trickled out of that office. And I was sure as hell not going to leave a callback number.

Nor was I interested in holding the line open in case the FBI had a tap on it, and wanted to triangulate on my signal. They were too close as it was.

* * *

I reached the farm before the time had elapsed, and tucked the car away in the garage, dialing my boss' number again as I strode into the kitchen.

"Chang?" I called, as I hung up the keys and put the rest of the stuff on the counter.

There was no answer, and I snapped my phone shut, cutting off the uncompleted call. I headed into the living room, to see that the television was off and the room was empty.

"Catherine? Duo?"

My stomach was tight with apprehension by the time I'd checked bedrooms and the hallway and returned to check the computer. It was set to automatic monitor, and I quickly keyed up the recent footage, terrified that someone had come while I was gone and spirited away my companions.

You'd think there'd have at least been signs of a struggle though…

Then as I started to scroll through the logs, I noticed the pad of paper beside the keyboard with "out in the barn" scrawled across it.

"Fuck!" I blew out a relieved breath, realizing my partner had been astute enough to know I'd worry…and yet not astute enough to think of leaving the note on the door from the garage, where I might see it _before _panicking.

I stalked quickly through the house and out the front door, pattering down the steps and striding across the yard. When I pulled open the barn door, I was taken aback at the sight of Catherine balancing a gleaming knife in her hand and then throwing it—_at Wufei_.

"What the _fuck_?" I blurted, my hand dropping to my gun.

The knife thunked into the backdrop Wufei was pressed against, missing his shoulder by only a finger's width. Why the hell he hadn't dodged it, I didn't know.

"Ah, shit!" Duo cried, jumping down from his place on a circus prop that looked like one of the platforms they have elephants stand on. "You win, Chang!" He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and headed for my partner, while Catherine turned a curious gaze to me.

I had my gun half-drawn, and didn't know whether to finish the motion or not. "What are you doing?" I demanded, scowling at her.

She had another knife in her hand, fingering the gleaming blade absently. "Settling a bet," she said simply.

My confusion finally dissipated, as I realized Wufei was smugly taking Duo's money, and my lover was laughing in good-natured surrender.

"What bet?" I asked carefully, releasing my death grip on the barrel of my weapon and moving closer.

She cocked her head to the side, smiling at Wufei as he came across the sawdust-covered floor. "Duo bet Wufei he didn't have the, um, balls to let me throw a knife at him, like I do to Trowa, in our circus act."

I glared at my partner as he approached. "Are you nuts?" I demanded. "If she'd slipped—."

His dark eyes narrowed. "She didn't."

"Aw, lighten up, 'Ro," Duo chided, walking up and slipping an arm around my waist. "We just came out here so I could get some of those magic smoke bombs—for emergency use." He hefted a burlap bag with his free hand. "Then we got talking about Cathy's knife act, and I dared Chang to give her a live target. When he hesitated, I told him he was a pansy-ass and that he didn't trust her."

My glare turned to my lover. "That was irresponsible, Duo. Chang's your protector—not a circus performer. And making him take a risk like that—."

"He didn't make me!" snapped Wufei quickly.

"Oh? Insulting your courage and implying that you had no faith in a woman you obviously care about wasn't coercion?"

Duo looked crestfallen, and Wufei was blushing at my blatant reference to his interest in Catherine. I felt momentarily like I'd kicked a whole litter of puppies, and quelled that feeling by recalling how my stomach had dropped to my feet as that knife left Catherine's hand.

"Since when did you feel the need to prove yourself to Duo?" I demanded of my partner.

The quick sideways glance of his eyes showed me that it hadn't been Duo he'd wanted to impress.

_Oh—right_. _Catherine._

I caught Duo's arm. "Come with me." And then I rather bodily dragged my lover out of the barn. "Jesus Christ, Maxwell! You knew if you pushed Chang he'd feel honor-bound to prove his respect for her, didn't you?"

"So?"

"So it might have gotten him injured or killed!"

Duo jerked his arm free and whirled to face me, his eyes gleaming with anger. "No, it wouldn't!" he shot back. "I've seen Cathy's act a million times, Yuy. She never misses. If I'd thought she might, I'd have never tried to get Wufei to play the dummy."

"There's no such thing as 'never,'" I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "When it comes to Cathy's act, there is. She's a top-notch performer. I've seen her nearly graze Trowa's cheek with those knives, and yet never break the skin. She doesn't miss."

"If you have that much faith in her, how come _you _weren't the one up against that wall?" I challenged.

He glared back. "Not for lack of trying! But Chang wouldn't let me. He said the one in a million risk factor was too high for the witness who's gonna put Khushrenada away for life, but that _he_ was willing to chance it to shut me up."

"Well he shouldn't have!" I ran a hand down my face, realizing it was shaking slightly, and then I fixed a stern look on Duo. "Do you have any idea what was running through my head when Catherine threw that knife?"

He paused, reading the genuine emotion on my face. "Shit—you thought she was with the _bad _guys?"

I shrugged slightly. "For a split-second there—yes. I mean, _fuck_! I walked in the barn to see Chang up against the wall and her throwing a knife in his direction. I've never seen her act—I had no idea she'd ever used live targets. And with the FBI sniffing around the circus, what was I supposed to think?"

He gave a wan smile. "Scared the piss out of you, didn't it? Thinking Chang was about to take it right in the heart?"

"I—I don't know what I thought. I didn't think. I just had a moment of complete confusion—and, well, panic."

"Sorry," he finally said with a genuinely contrite expression. "If I knew you might walk in on that, I guess I might've thought twice." He shifted uneasily, and I could tell he wanted to wrap his arms around me, but wasn't sure what kind of reception he'd receive.

So I held out my arms and let him melt into them. "I'm not mad," I murmured into his hair. "Not any more. Just—shaken."

"My fault entirely," came Chang's conciliatory voice behind us, as he and Catherine approached. "Honestly, Yuy, it never occurred to any of us that you might stumble in and not realize what was going on."

"Well, after finding no one in the house, and nearly having a coronary before I found the note by the computer—," I said chidingly.

"Oh. Perhaps not the best place to have left it," he conceded.

"No shit." I shook my head. "But then you couldn't have known the FBI was snooping around town today."

"What?!" came the chorus of replies.

I nodded, ignoring their horrified expressions. "We're out of time, Chang. The man at the general store mentioned some guys in suits at the local diner, and I'd bet my badge they were FBI. They apparently headed north to find a place to spend the night, but that's too close for comfort."

"You think they discovered the circus connection?"

"That's one possibility—but then, they should've come straight to us, instead of asking around town for two Asian men and one with a braid." I frowned in thought as we headed for the house. "I think maybe they used some guesswork—based on our last location, and possibly the report from that guy in the fleabag hotel. It would have given them a direction in which to search."

"And since they're following Barton, it won't take them long to connect the rest of the dots," Wufei pointed out. "We have to leave _now_."

"Yes, we do." I led the way into the kitchen, gesturing to the bags on the counter. "There's a pair of boots in there for you, Duo. I hope they fit okay. The sizes seemed to run large—so if anything, you might have to double up on socks."

"I'll make do," he promised, walking over and stuffing his burlap bag into his backpack, before taking the boots to try on.

"I'm going to call the Captain again," I told Chang, walking over to unhook the laptop, even as I hit redial on my phone.

"Again?"

"I called in the car—her private line—but Relena answered."

"Perhaps—."

"Don't make excuses!" I cautioned. "It's unacceptable, considering the situation."

He nodded a bit uncomfortably and started rummaging through the supplies I'd brought home, stowing them in the proper packs, while Catherine was quickly making sandwiches and wrapping them to go.

"Yuy?" came Captain Po's worried voice on my phone.

"You have got to stop letting Relena answer your calls," I growled, focusing on the call. "The FBI is within spitting distance of our position," I told her bluntly. "Can I assume you had nothing to do with that?"

"Damn right!" she snapped back. "They've been crawling all over my precinct—but I've given them nothing to go on. I don't _know _anything to tell them anyway."

"Yeah, well, with Duo's face plastered all over the papers and news, and Chang and I featured in the tabloids, they hardly need you to give them a lead. Anyone who's seen him, or us, in the last six weeks will be screaming their heads off to either Khushrenada or the Feds—or both—if you catch my meaning." I paused for effect. "We need to come in, Captain. And you need to have a secure place for us to do that."

"I'm working on it. The courthouse is being made into a veritable fortress—between protecting the witness and keeping Khushrenada contained—." She gave a huff of breath. "Give me a week."

"The trial's in a week."

"I know."

"What are we supposed to do? Show up at opening arguments?"

"Just about." She drew a deep, almost shuddering breath. "Call me in two days, from wherever you are, and give me a place and time. I'll have a car and two plainclothes meet you."

I frowned—not pleased with the arrangement—but it was all we'd get for now. "Make it two officers I know on sight, plus a car with bulletproof glass and reinforced doors, and you've got a deal."

She managed a short chuckle. "You've got it."

I snapped the phone shut without saying goodbye.

"Yuy?"

"We're to call the Captain in two days and give her a pickup point."

"The amusement park?"

I shrugged. "We won't know until we see it."

Duo joined us then, wearing the new boots and his leather jacket. "They fit fine," he said shortly, walking over to help Chang close up the last of the packs.

Catherine held out a paper bag. "I made sandwiches for you guys...the roast beef you'll need to eat first, but the peanut butter will keep for a day or so."

"Thanks, Cath," Duo said warmly, taking the bag and hugging her. "You've been great, y'know. And considering how badly you an' I got along when we first met—."

She chuckled. "Well, Trowa smoothed out your rough edges in time to save our relationship, didn't he?"

"That he did."

We each took our gear, donning warm coats and shouldering our packs before heading out into the yard.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," I told Catherine, holding out a hand.

She shook it firmly, her eyes a bit bright. "You three be careful, won't you?"

"Of course."

Wufei stepped up to her then, his face grave. "You should be careful as well," he cautioned. "Perhaps staying here isn't a good idea. If the FBI backtracks and finds this place, you could be in danger."

She cocked her head. "Are you so sure the FBI is on the wrong side?"

"We are," he said firmly, glancing past her to Duo. "Merquise told Duo that there were agents on the take, and I believe it. There's no legitimate reason for them to be in town—so we can only assume they're our enemies."

She nodded her understanding.

"Is there somewhere you can go?" I asked, seeing the obvious concern on Chang's face and knowing he'd worry about her. I didn't need him distracted, and I certainly didn't want Catherine in harm's way.

"I suppose I could rejoin the circus," she conceded. "Now that the cast is off, I'd be cleared for light duty."

Wufei took her hands in his. "I wish you would," he urged. "It would put my mind at ease."

She smiled up at him, and gave a firm nod. "If it means that much to you, I'll head out as soon as I talk to my boss and line up someone to look after this place."

"It means more than you know," he said warmly.

Duo was fidgeting where he stood, looking anxiously over his shoulder, and I decided we'd tarried long enough. "Time to go, Chang."

He gave a frustrated sigh, and released Catherine's hands. "I—enjoyed meeting you very much, Catherine. And as soon as I've completed this assignment, I plan to pick up where we left off—if that's acceptable to you."

"Very acceptable," she grinned. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely on the lips, right in front of us—for just long enough to bring a wide, teasing smile to Duo's face.

Then she pushed back to arm's length, eyes brimming with tears. "You better stay alive, Chang Wufei! I'll be waiting for your call."

And before any of us could say anything, she ran up the stairs and into the house, slamming the door firmly behind her.

"Whoa—Chang!" Duo said with a low whistle. "You lady killer, you!"

The scowl my partner threw his way was half-hearted at best. "Get walking, Maxwell. We've a lot of ground to cover—and many moose to dodge." He started for the trails at a brisk pace.

"Many moose?" Duo echoed, following along behind him, while I brought up the rear. "Wouldn't that be many mooses? Or would it be meece? I mean, you can't just have one moose or ten moose, can you? There's got to be a better plural than that…"

"No, there doesn't," came the irritated response. "It's just moose, Maxwell, whether it's one or a hundred."

"A hundred? That'd be a helluva lot of mooses."

"Moose."

"It just sounds stupid to say moose when you're talking about that many," Duo huffed.

"It sounds correct."

"Stupidly correct."

I had a feeling it was going to be a long walk to the amusement park.


	49. Rabid Moose

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

The "mooseketeers" reference was totally Kaeru Shisho's idea! I'm innocent-ish.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Forty Nine: Rabid Moose...

Since we set out from the circus property in the middle of the afternoon, we knew we couldn't cover a substantial amount of ground before we'd need to find a place to camp for the night. Thus we didn't set a grueling pace so early in our forced march.

In fact, as we walked along the cliffs, and Duo paused frequently to watch the seagulls ride the breezes, or to point out a distant sail on the horizon, both Chang and I stopped with him, allowing him the time to enjoy the scenery while he could.

And by the time we reached the wooded trails and Chang picked up the pace a bit, our witness seemed content to match strides with him. He also seemed a bit too quiet, having given up the moose debate early on.

"Is your foot okay?" I finally asked, wanting to draw him out of whatever bleak thoughts he might be entertaining.

"Yeah, fine."

"How about the rest of you?" Chang asked, glancing back over his shoulder. I was relieved to know he'd also picked up on Duo's silence.

Duo sighed. I think he realized we were concerned. And then he looked back at me and smirked. "Ask Heero."

It took me a moment to backtrack in the conversation, and then I had to chuckle aloud. "The rest of you is—fantastic," I said warmly.

It was Wufei's turn to sigh. "I meant his emotional state—but obviously it's just fine as well."

"Yeah, Wuffers, it is," chided my lover. "You've both gotta realize that just 'cause I'm quiet, it doesn't mean I'm depressed. Despite popular opinion, I _do _think sometimes."

"What were you thinking about?" I asked.

He shook his head, glancing back again. "How I'm gonna phrase things for a jury...what I have to do to convince them I'm telling the truth…shit like that."

"For starters," Wufei pointed out. "If you wish to be convincing, don't use words like 'shit' while on the witness stand."

"Oh yeah," came the sheepish reply.

"Noventa will explain it all when we get to the courthouse," I told him. "He'll tell you what questions he plans to ask, what sort of questions the defense might ask on cross-examination, and what to expect from the judge."

Wufei picked up the conversation then. "He'll brief you on courtroom protocol, and appropriate language and behavior, as well as how to dress."

Duo looked down at his faded jeans and hiking boots. "Guess this isn't exactly formal wear," he noted.

"I'm sure we can procure a suit and tie prior to your testimony," said my partner.

Duo chuckled ruefully. "I fuckin' hate ties. Even Zechs only got me to wear one once or twice in all the time we dated."

"Noventa will insist on it," I assured him. "He'll want you to look as respectable as possible."

My lover laughed aloud at that. "_Respectable_? Didn't you once tell me I'd never be respectable?"

"I was wrong."

He turned around then, and flung himself into my arms, kissing the breath out of me right in front of Wufei.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were so full of emotion they practically glowed. "I don't ever want to let you down," he swore quietly. "I'd do anything for you, 'Ro."

I cocked my head, wondering for a second if he was only testifying against Khushrenada because I wanted him to. But that made no sense, since he'd agreed to it long before there was an "us." It had seemed like simple self-preservation on his part at the time; but then, he also said he'd wanted to earn my respect from the moment he laid eyes on me. Had it really mattered that much to him?

"Y'know what I want you to do?" I asked quietly. "I want you to live a long, healthy, wonderful life. I want you to do what makes you happy."

He smiled widely. "You make me happy," he said firmly. "Does that mean I can 'do' you?"

"Later," I whispered, glancing over his shoulder at Wufei's back.

My partner had walked a short way up the path and was studiously _not _looking at us.

"I think we're making Chang uncomfortable," I pointed out. "He hasn't got Catherine here."

"Aw, yeah." Duo pulled away reluctantly. "Not fair to flaunt it, is it?"

"We'll have plenty of time after the trial," I promised.

"Something to look forward to." He turned and jogged to catch up to Wufei, while I walked doggedly up the rocky trail to resume my place at the end of the line.

We made camp at dusk, stopping when we found a thick grove of pines that would keep the evening chill off us. And while Wufei hung a tarp over a rope strung between two trees, I gathered rocks to build a small fire pit, and Duo broke out the roast beef sandwiches and bottled water to make instant coffee.

He paused when he found a paper bag in the rucksack, and then held it out in Chang's direction. "Hey, Wuffers—there's a love note for you."

Wufei turned sharply. "A what?"

Duo shook the bag impatiently. "Cathy wrote you a note."

My partner took the bag rather gingerly, and sat to read the brief message she'd penned, his expression intense.

"So—what's in the bag?" Duo pressed, shoving a sandwich in to my hand.

"None of your business," Wufei growled. He opened the bag and peered at the contents. "Tea." He looked a bit nonplussed. "Green tea. Where on Earth could she have found this brand? It's not carried in stores outside of Chinatown."

I patted his shoulder as I took a seat beside him. "She had the man at the store in town special order it."

When he looked up in surprise, I nodded confirmation. "It was there when I went for supplies today, and Edgar had me bring it to her."

Wufei looked back at the bag in his hands, a small smile lingering on his lips. "She's very thoughtful."

"Hell yeah!" Duo blurted out. "Look what she packed in _my _stuff!" He held up two throwing knives in wrist sheaths. "A girl after my own heart; I almost wish I was straight."

Chang cast a chilling glare in his direction. "Well, you're _not_, Maxwell! So give it up. She's _mine_."

Duo smirked at him, even while strapping on his new toys. "Cool your jets, Wuffers. You can have her. I just think she's damn cool, for a chick."

"So do I," Wufei agreed, getting up and preparing to make his tea.

My lover sauntered over and plunked down next to me, holding out an arm so I could examine the shiny blade strapped to it.

I ran an appreciative finger over the sheath, and across the bare skin of Duo's wrist, enjoying the way his lips parted and his eyes lit up at my touch. "You're right—she is cool, for a chick. I'll have to thank her for thinking of your safety."

As a matter of fact, there was no reason not to thank her right away. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the farmhouse.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Calling her."

Duo blinked in surprise. "Hadn't even thought of that. Yeah, it should be safe, huh? No one's gonna tap a line to a farm in the middle of nowhere."

"Hello?" came Catherine's familiar voice.

"Hello," I replied. "There are a couple of guys here who'd like to thank you for your thoughtfulness."

She laughed aloud. "It wasn't much," she demurred. "I'd ordered the tea before finding out you had to leave so soon, and as for the knives, I've got plenty to spare, and I think Duo needs them more."

"It was still a wonderful thing to do," I assured her. "I'm grateful."

"Well, you're very welcome," she assured me.

"Let me pass the phone around," I suggested, before holding it out to Duo. "Keep it short, so Wufei can have a few minutes?"

"'Course." He took the phone. "Hey, Cath! Thanks for the cool blades, sweetie. You're the best." His gaze rested fondly on his gleaming weapons as he spoke. "Yeah, we're fine. No moose yet. Not even a rabid hit man." His laugh brightened the darkness of the clearing. "Long story. And I don't wanna take away from your loverboy's time."

"Maxwell, you may _not _call me 'loverboy,'" snarled my partner, holding out his hand for the phone. Duo relinquished it, and Wufei murmured a quiet greeting, and then, "Well, yes, _you _can."

Chuckling smugly, Duo went back to rummaging in the packs, pulling out some of the chocolate-coated protein bars. "S'pose this is as close to dessert as we've got," he sighed.

"I'll buy you a hot fudge sundae the minute they convict Khushrenada," I promised.

"Would that be before or after they drag me off to relocation?"

"Doesn't matter. I already said I'll find you," I shrugged, accepting a protein bar and biting into it.

"You will, too. Won't you?" he said wonderingly. "Gotta love that kind of determination."

"As much as I love yours."

Wufei kept his call short, handing me back the phone before he could deplete our limited battery power. "She said everything's quiet at the farm—no sign of anyone snooping about. And she'll be leaving by noon tomorrow. Edgar's going to stop in once a week to look over the property; he's done it before when it was unoccupied for a length of time."

"Good. Then even if they connect all the dots and show up there, no one will be in danger. It will merely be a dead end."

He nodded, looking relieved. "Coffee or tea, Yuy? The water's ready."

"Tea, I guess. So I can sleep while you take first watch, if you would."

"Glad to. It's my turn, since I slept last."

We had a quick cup of tea, while Duo swigged down his much-beloved coffee, insisting a little caffeine wouldn't keep him from sleeping like the dead after all the walking we'd done.

He was right. Curled up next to me under the makeshift tent, he slept like a log, snoring quietly, with one hand fisted in my shirt front and the other tucked under his cheek. He was fucking adorable.

* * *

Chang and I traded shifts in the middle of the night, and we broke camp at dawn, pausing only to heat more water for hot drinks to wash down our protein bars. Then we set out at a much more determined pace than the previous day, eager to cover ground.

The trail was rugged, winding over rock ledge much of the time, and through scrub pines the rest. While we could still smell the salty tang on the breeze, we were no longer close enough to hear or see the ocean, a fact Duo lamented at least once an hour.

Only after I promised for the third or fourth time to find us a cottage on the shore once the trial was over, did he subside into a sort of grudging silence on the subject.

By noontime, we'd descended into thicker forest, with fewer rocks and more tree roots and streams. If the map we'd studied was correct, we'd be entering a swamp before nightfall. I just hoped we could cross it and get to higher, and dryer, ground before we had to make camp.

"Hey, 'Ro?"

"Hn?"

"What's a moose look like?"

I shrugged, keeping my gaze on the uneven trail. "Kind of like a really ugly cow," I said with a vague wave of my hand.

"Only bigger," Wufei added. "Much, much bigger."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?" my partner added.

"'Cause that thing across the path up ahead kinda looks like one."

Chang and I stopped in our tracks, raising our eyes to see a very large moose, antlers still in velvet, standing crosswise on the trail maybe a hundred yards away.

"Holy shit!" Chang blurted, and the huge creature turned its head in our direction, sniffing the breeze.

"Shhh!" I hissed in warning. "Nobody move."

"Wrong answer," Duo whispered. "I'm thinkin' 'run like hell.'" He'd backed up into me at Chang's expletive, and I could feel the tension running through him.

"No. They have mediocre eyesight—but catch movement very well," I breathed back. "And they've got excellent hearing."

"What'd you do—take notes from Catherine?"

"I looked them up on-line."

The animal stamped one front foot in agitation, and Duo flinched so hard that I slid an arm around his waist from behind, to keep him from bolting. "Shhh."

"I'll give ya five bucks to act as a decoy, Chang."

"Maxwell—I swear to God if you don't shut your mouth—," hissed my partner.

The moose had turned its attention in another direction, casting about for—whatever it is moose look for. And then, apparently detecting something more enticing than us, it moved slowly off—its pace totally unhurried. But then, why should it hurry? It was at the top of just about every food chain I could envision in that part of the country.

"Y'think he's rabid?" Duo asked.

I tightened my grip, tempted to shake him in frustration. "Jesus fucking Christ! No!"

The moose paused, glanced back, shook its head from side to side as if lamenting my lover's abominable lack of animal savvy—or my abominable language—and then continued on its journey away from us.

Duo started to move, and I all but crushed him in an unbreakable embrace, putting my lips up against his ear. "Do not move, or I will tie you up and _leave _you here until that thing comes back."

I heard a little squeak, but nothing more, and Duo froze into complete immobility.

We waited for several minutes, until the bulky animal disappeared from sight and the crunch of its footfalls had faded into silence.

When I finally released Duo, he drew a deep breath, rubbing at his rib cage. "Jeeze, Yuy, ya didn't have to crush me!"

"Apparently I did," I replied unsympathetically. "You wouldn't hold still and/or shut up."

"There's other ways to shut me up," he said with a suggestive lilt to his voice.

"Not in front of a bull moose," I growled back.

"Or me!" Chang added firmly.

Duo's worried gaze turned in the direction the moose had gone. "Y'think he'll come back?"

"Well let's not stand here all day and find out," I urged, looking around us and choosing a sturdy branch to make into a combination walking stick and moose club. (And, no. The term "mooseketeers" never crossed my mind…really.)

Wufei looked at my new security blanket and sneered. "Do you honestly think that would even slow a creature that size down, Yuy?"

"Nope," I replied smoothly. "I was planning to use it to trip you, so that while he stopped to gore you, Duo and I would have more of a head start."

Duo laughed aloud at my joke, though he quickly caught himself and muffled it, looking anxiously after the departed moose.

"Let's just keep moving," Chang grunted irritably, choosing a path that skirted the moose crossing and yet kept us going in the general direction of the amusement park.

"This trip just keeps gettin' better and better," Duo mumbled, close on my partner's heels.

In spite of being predictably jumpy the rest of the day, we made good time, and actually got well beyond the swamp before stopping to choose a campsite.

Just like the night before, we made a minimal supper, mostly relying on our remaining peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and protein bars for nourishment. And then we settled down for a few hours of sleep, huddled under the tarp with our wool blankets.

As usual, Chang and I took turns on guard, though the forest night remained soothingly tranquil.

And of course, in the morning, it started to rain.

* * *

It rained all day, while we slogged doggedly onward, the plastic ponchos keeping our heads and upper bodies somewhat dry, while our pant legs gradually became soaked.

By the time we spotted the amusement park, it was nearly nightfall, and we were damp, chilled and cranky. But the promise of dry shelter was enough to make us pick up the pace and trek the final distance to the stockade fence and chain link gate.

"Padlocked," Wufei concluded, examining the heavy chain around the gate.

"Catherine thought there'd be a place to slip through the fence," I reminded him, looking through the gathering gloom for the aforementioned opening. "Or maybe we could scramble over it somewhere."

"Screw that," Duo muttered, stepping up to the fence and fumbling in a pocket. He produced a slim piece of metal and began working on the lock.

"This is considered breaking and entering—not to mention trespassing," Wufei pointed out.

"Just what I'm best at," Duo shrugged, continuing to pry at the stubborn lock.

I opened my mouth to argue that there were things he was even better at, but decided not to. It was far more important for us to get inside, find shelter, and contact the Captain to arrange our transportation.

"Voila!" Duo crowed, dropping the chain free, and pulling open the fence.

We piled in after him, looping the chain around the gate again and putting the lock on the inside, before setting about searching among the buildings to find one where we could seek shelter, or turn on a bit of power and maybe some lights.

The guard shack was too small, and the ticket booth too open. But the cinderblock power station seemed very promising.

"Can you get that unlocked?" I asked Duo, pointing to the heavy metal security door.

He grimaced slightly. "Not so sure. They've got a deadbolt up above—no lock to manipulate."

"Fine." I pulled out my gun, gesturing the others to stand back, and fired into the deadbolt at a safe angle. There was no point in risking being taken out by a ricochet.

It took two shots, but then I was able to yank open the heavy door and shine a flashlight inside. "Dry," I concluded with relief. "Let's get in and warm up."

We dragged our shivering bodies inside, and quickly found the main power circuit. I flipped it on, hoping the electricity to the place hadn't been turned off at the source.

It hadn't, and a pleasant hum filled the air, even as I flipped on the lights and scanned the list beside the circuit breakers.

When I turned around I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Duo, looking very much like a drowned rat as he struggled out of the poncho, his braid a bedraggled mess.

He glared up through the bangs plastered to his face. "Laugh it up, Yuy. You're _this _close to not gettin' any tonight."

I swallowed the laughter, but couldn't suppress my grin. "You wouldn't cut me off, Duo. You'll need someone warm to snuggle up with."

He glanced sideways at Wufei, who gave a very firm shake of his head.

"Assholes—both of ya," muttered my lover, digging in our backpacks to see if anything had remained dry enough to wear.

He finally gave up, sitting back on his heels. "Is there a fuckin' laundromat around here? I really, really need a clothes dryer."

"No laundromat," I informed him, studying a wall map of the power grid and buildings. "But there's a dormitory—probably for the security staff, when the place is operational. I'll bet it's heated." I searched the list on the circuit box, locating the switch for the dormitory power, and flipping it on. "Let's head over there and get settled for the night. We can call Captain Po after we dry off and eat."

After turning out the light in the power station and pulling the damaged door closed so it appeared more or less intact, we made our way across the sodden amusement park. I was pleasantly surprised to find the walkways paved, and everything in good repair. It really was well kept up, and beat the heck out of stumbling through the woods risking broken ankles and trying to shelter ourselves under a tarp slung between trees.

Duo picked the lock on the door to the dormitory, and I entered first, flipping on the lights and looking around. "Not bad."

There were beds along one wall, each mattress rolled up and tied for storage. Lockers lined the opposite wall, a unisex bathroom took up one corner, and a kitchenette occupied the other, though the refrigerator was open and unplugged, and the cupboards were bare.

"Not the worst place we've stayed," Duo conceded, walking over and untying one of the mattresses, jumping back with a startled oath as it flopped open and a panicked field mouse scurried for cover.

"For fuck's sake, Maxwell," chided my partner. "It's just a mouse. Surely you've seen rats in your lifetime. Lots and lots of them."

"Doesn't mean I like sleepin' with 'em," Duo retorted, poking at the mattress to make sure there were no other residents.

Chang just shook his head and spread out two more of the mattresses, while I strung a piece of rope across the room and began hanging some of our clothes up to dry.

There was electric heat in the building, and I cranked up the temperature to speed the drying process.

"How long will it take your boss to send someone?" Duo asked, sitting on the edge of his chosen bunk to unlace his boots.

"If I call tonight, she can probably have someone here by noon tomorrow."

Wufei paused in the middle of stripping out of his soggy shirt. "How secure do you suppose her line is?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"Maybe you should call Quatre instead," Duo interjected, walking over to set his boots near the heater. "Give him the place and time, and have him deliver it to your Captain in person."

"Good idea." I had Winner's cell phone number memorized; it would be simple enough to ask him to relay the message. One less call to the precinct.

"Maybe he'll know if Tro' is okay?" Duo added, his back to me.

I could read the tension in both his tone and his posture, and I stopped what I was doing and went over to slide my arms around him from behind, leaning in close. "Don't worry, love. He's fine. But I'll ask about him anyway."

"Thanks."

"First though, we're going to warm up and eat. Do you think you can use that stove over there to make anything better than ration bars and peanut butter sandwiches?"

"Sure," he said, sounding more relaxed already. "I think Cathy put in some packets of soup mix. We can have a hot meal at least."

He set about cooking, while I finished hanging the clothes, and Wufei made up three beds with blankets he found in a locker against a wall. We'd all stripped down to just tee shirts and damp jeans, unwilling to wear less in the chilly room. But by the time we'd eaten, the small building was comfortably warm, and our clothes were drying quickly.

"Time to make that call," Chang pointed out, as we put away our little cooking pot and mugs.

"Yeah," I replied, a bit nervous at the thought of revealing our location. I pulled out my cell phone and fingered it restlessly. Then, before I could have second thoughts, I dialed Winner's number.

He picked up on the third ring. "Quatre Winner speaking."

"It's me, Heero."

"Are you okay? What's happened?" he asked in rapid fire.

"We're fine. We'd like an update on Trowa, for starters."

"He's—safe. He called me after he talked to you and told me he was going to stay with friends. I suggested he join a certain group of kids at their current location, and so he did."

I covered the receiver with my hand and gave Duo a reassuring smile. "Winner had Trowa go where the orphans are staying."

Relief flooded the indigo eyes, and Duo smiled. "Tell him thanks."

"Duo says thanks."

"He's welcome," came an amused response.

"Now, are _you _in a safe place?"

"I'm in a veritable fortress, with servants and sisters galore," he assured me.

"Good. I need you to relay a message for me. Is there someone trustworthy and unrecognizable you can send to the precinct right away?"

"Oh yes. Definitely."

"Tell the Captain we're ready for pickup. Acadia Amusement Park. Thirty miles south of Flanders, on route one. Noon tomorrow."

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "So soon?"

"The trial's less than a week away. I don't think this is soon at all," I retorted a bit sharply.

"I suppose not. It must seem like it's been forever for you."

"Just do me a favor. Tell your messenger that the instructions are for Po only. He's not to give them to any secretary or officer. Only the Captain herself."

"Understood."

"And in the message, remind her I better recognize whoever she sends—and the car better be equipped with the extras she promised."

He chuckled at that. "Bullet-proof glass?"

"And armor plating in the doors."

"I like you, Yuy."

"Don't get all mushy on me, counselor. You know how I feel about lawyers."

He laughed longer and louder. "Me too, Yuy. Me too. Give Duo and Wufei my best."

"I will." I snapped the phone shut and looked at my partner's worried face. "Let's hope that for once, everything goes according to plan."

"And if it doesn't?"

I gave a feral smile. "We'll be prepared."

He darted an appraising look at me, and then nodded, realizing I had plans. For once, we were in a location that gave us an excellent vantage point. From what I'd seen of the park, there were plenty of high spots, as well as a long, wide open approach. We could see who was coming well ahead of time.

Granted, if a whole fleet of cars came charging up the road, we'd still be vastly outnumbered; but we'd also have a bit of home court advantage. It had helped us escape the lake house, and it would help us escape the amusement park, if it came to that.

I didn't realize I'd drifted until I felt Duo's weight settle next to me on the mattress, and he threw a blanket around both of us. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just working on strategy," I admitted. "At first light, I think we should explore the park, locate all possible exits and entrances, and—."

"Shhh—." He silenced me with a kiss, his tongue gently coaxing its way between my lips, before beginning a leisurely exploration of my mouth.

Predictably, my mind went blank as all my blood headed south, though I managed to suck in a quick breath when he pulled back, his teeth gently catching my lower lip and teasingly tugging at it.

"Duo—."

He shook his head. "Not tonight, 'Ro. Give that brain a rest, would ya?"

I looked past him at Wufei, who'd apparently decided to take first watch while I'd been pondering the next day's plans. My partner was standing by the window, just off to one side, his stern gaze scanning the darkness outside. "I suggest you two kill the lights and get some sleep," he said conversationally. "I'll wake you for your shift in five hours."

I did as Chang said, shutting off the lights so he could see outside more clearly, and heading for bed. I didn't protest when Duo abandoned his own bunk to curl up beside me and wrap a blanket around us both. I wanted him that close—and closer.

But he didn't try to initiate anything physical, merely tucking his head under my chin and throwing an arm across my waist, before settling in to sleep. And I don't think I was very far behind in dozing off.

* * *

When my partner shook me by the shoulder sometime later, I had to ease a deeply slumbering Duo off my chest and onto his own pillow before sliding out from under him to take my turn at guard duty.

"Anything suspicious?" I asked in a hushed whisper as I pulled my boots on.

"Not a thing. The rain is letting up though. I'm hoping at first light we can explore the grounds to familiarize ourselves."

"Absolutely. I want to have hiding places and escape routes planned long before our ride gets here. If they're followed…" I let my voice trail off ominously, not needing to fill in the blanks for my intelligent partner. He knew what would happen as well as I did.

I took his place at the window, which gave me an excellent view of the walkway outside. But the blackness was deep and undisturbed; we really were far from city lights and traffic out here.

Far from help, my mind pointed out.

But then, we couldn't trust any help we might get, so maybe that was a good thing.

My shift passed quickly, and as night faded into pre-dawn, I went to the kitchenette to start water for coffee and tea. We'd need all the energy we could get.

I was cleaning and inspecting our guns when Duo stirred and sat up, looking around in confusion for a moment, until his gaze settled on me. Of course, a slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes with amusement. "You look really hot cleaning guns, 'Ro," he told me, throwing off the covers and sitting up.

"I do?"

"Yeah," he purred, his voice still husky with sleep. "Love the way you stroke your barrel—."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in response to his teasing leer. "Wait'll you see me lubricate my hammer."

He let out a low groan and then flopped back on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Here we are about to come out into the open and put our lives on the line—and all I can think about is how you're leaving me sexually frustrated just before the most stressful event of my life!"

"You started it," I pointed out, finishing wiping down my gun and carefully checking the action before reloading it and putting it into the holster.

"And I'll finish it!" came Chang's stern voice. "It's all business today, Maxwell. We have no time for games. Our transportation will be arriving at noon, and we must be prepared for the worst."

Duo groaned again. "Y'mean we're watching for helicopters and SUVs again?"

"We're watching for anything."

Now that Chang was awake, we ate a quick breakfast of protein bars and stowed away the blankets and mattresses. We wouldn't be spending another night at the park, no matter how the meeting went down.

It was daylight when we left the dormitory to start exploring our surroundings. I'd made sure Duo was checked out on the two handguns I'd given him—one in a spare shoulder holster I fitted him with, and another in the pocket of his leather jacket. He'd wanted to tuck it down the back of his pants, but I pointed out that it was the first place anyone would look, and that if there was a mishap, his lovely ass might be at risk.

I got the laugh for that one, and saw my lover relax fractionally.

We set out to walk every square inch of that amusement park, locating the control booth rather quickly, and having Duo pick the lock so we could check it out. It was the nerve center for the whole place, with video monitors at each ride, giving whoever was in charge the ability to shut down a ride at a moment's notice in case of emergency.

Chang slipped back to the power station to turn on the control room power, enabling us to experiment with the equipment and get a feel for just how much surveillance it provided. And that was a lot.

"I say we leave the power on in this room," I suggested to Chang, after he got back and we thoroughly tested every device. "If we have any trouble, we can use the cameras to locate enemies."

"Agreed."

Duo, meanwhile, had his nose practically pressed up against the glass, staring at the roller coaster. "Sure we can't squeeze in one ride, guys?"

"No!" we said in unison.

"Aw, but—."

"No!"

He gave up amazingly quickly, sighing and absently fingering the wrist sheaths Catherine had provided. "S'pose I'd be too distracted to really enjoy it anyway…"

We left the control room unlocked, just in case, and headed out to explore the rest of the park. But aside from some concession stands, public restrooms, and maintenance sheds, there wasn't much to see. All the buildings had standard locks we could easily kick apart if we needed access, so there was no reason to open them. It would be tough enough explaining to the owners that we'd appropriated the place for police business. But that would be Po's problem, once we were safely back in the precinct.

"It's eleven o'clock," my partner pointed out, gesturing towards the front gate. "Time to set up?"

"Affirmative," I said curtly.

After having Duo reopen the lock on the chain link fence, we stashed our backpacks and duffels near the main gate, inside a ticket booth, where we could retrieve them quickly, or leave them safely.

Duo rummaged through his gear, pocketing what I guessed were spare nutrition bars, and I shook my head, wondering how he could be hungry at a time like this.

"Ready for your limo ride?" I asked him, looping my binoculars around my neck and preparing to take a position near the gate.

"I've been in limos," he said a bit curtly.

Oh, right. His boyfriend had owned a whole fleet.

"Sorry." He stood up and turned to face me, his expression tense. "I'm just—."

"Scared," I said quietly, seeing genuine dread in his eyes. "It'll be okay," I promised. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"What about you?" he answered back.

"Don't you worry. I won't take any chances." I pulled him close, using his belt loops to drag him up against me. "Y'think I'd let myself get killed and let some other guy have a chance at this body? No way in Hell."

He smiled rather wanly. "I don't think I could stand to let another guy touch me—after you." He wrapped warm arms around me, and I could feel his heart pounding.

"God, you really _are _scared," I whispered.

"Only of losing you."

"You won't."

Chang had been watching at the gate, and now walked back to where we were embracing. "I'm going up on the bleachers over there," he told me, gesturing with the rifle he carried. "When the limo shows up, if the wrong guys get out—you give me a signal and I'll start shooting."

Duo pushed back from me, looking at Wufei in surprise. "You'd just open up on 'em, Chang? No 'freeze—police' or anything?"

Chang shook his head, some of his dark hair slipping free of its usual ponytail. "No warnings, Maxwell. If they are not who they are supposed to be, it's us or them. I will not waste time and give them an opportunity to outmaneuver us."

"Wow."

I smirked at Duo's stunned expression. "C'mon, Maxwell. We've been dodging bullets for weeks. You expect us to get sloppy now?"

"I just didn't expect you to be so—ruthless."

"This isn't a game," I assured him. "They've been ruthless, and now it's our turn. I told the Captain who to send. If I don't recognize the men, they'll have about two seconds to explain why before I give Chang the go-ahead."

"And I'll use it," my partner said with a rather evil grin. "Might be nice to be the ones on the offensive for a change, hm?"

"Shit, yeah!" Duo agreed, brightening perceptibly.

Wufei gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder. "Stay out of sight, Maxwell. And do as we say. We'll get through this together."

He headed off to his vantage point, and I gestured Duo to get behind the ticket booth. "Like he said—stay under cover until I tell you it's safe to come out."

"Be careful!" he cautioned, leaning in for a quick, hungry kiss before taking his position behind the shelter of the small structure.

I slipped up to the gate, sliding it open just a few feet, and training my binoculars on the farthest point of the road.

It didn't take nearly as long as it seemed, before a sleek, black vehicle came cruising up the gravel drive, splashing through the puddles from the previous night's rain.

"Showtime," I muttered, taking my own rifle and tucking it in the crook of an arm before waving to the driver so he'd see where we were waiting.


	50. and Hitmen

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind. Also, the House of Horrors was wonderfully tweaked by Kaeru Shisho, a woman with a wild imagination and awesome ideas!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty: …and Hitmen

With Duo safely hidden behind the ticket booth, and my own body partially shielded by the gate, I watched the vehicle turn towards us and gradually decelerate. It pulled up about a hundred feet away, crosswise in the drive, and I tensed, prepared to jump for better cover at the first sign of weapons.

Then, the passenger door opened and a man got out—a man I didn't recognize.

I had the rifle trained on his heart in an instant. "Identify yourself!" I barked out sharply, edging further behind my cover, such as it was.

"Captain Po sent us!" he replied, holding his arms up in the universal gesture of surrender. "We're here to pick up Maxwell."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Agent Sims—FBI. Your Captain felt we could protect you better than her people could."

"Wrong answer!" I called out. "I was very specific about who she should send." I cocked the rifle loudly and deliberately. "Keep your hands where I can see them and have the driver and anyone else in there throw out their weapons and come out. I start shooting on the count of three!"

He shook his head. "Don't be hasty. We've got someone here who'd like to see you."

The back door opened, and another man got out, dragging a kicking, flailing body after him. It took me only a split second to recognize the auburn hair and slim figure, as Catherine struggled against the ropes binding her arms behind her, making noises of protest into the duct tape across her mouth, her face livid with anger.

"Fuck!" I blurted in horror.

"Jesus!"

I heard Duo's dismayed cry, and held out one arm to keep him back as he tried to dash past me. "Don't!" I cautioned. "Duo—you can't!"

He hesitated, straining against me. "Cathy—."

"Going out there won't help her," I said in a low voice. "Wait."

I glanced up at Chang without turning my head, noting with relief that he, at least, had stayed in position, though his face was startlingly pale. He didn't move, or give away his presence, but remained frozen, his gun trained on the men outside of the limo.

"What do you fuckers want?" Duo demanded, glaring over my shoulder at Agent Sims and the man desperately trying to control the struggling girl.

"Why—_you_, of course." Sims wore a perfectly unctuous smirk. "Duo Maxwell, I presume?"

"Let her go!" Duo cried, his voice laced with frustration. "She's not part of this."

"Jesus, Duo, let me handle this!" I hissed in an undertone.

"God—Cathy—," he groaned, stepping back so he was no longer braced against me. "Heero—we can't let them hurt her."

"We won't." I fixed a deadly glare on Agent Sims. "You know I can't hand Maxwell over."

"Ah—you'd better rethink that answer," cautioned the smug man. "Or this little lady could end up very, very dead."

"So will Maxwell, if I let you take him."

Another man had stepped out of the car, making the count at least three besides the driver—and I was willing to bet there was probably a fourth and maybe a fifth inside, with guns at the ready.

"I give you my word, we won't harm Maxwell," Agent Sims assured me.

"Your word doesn't mean shit! Your boss wants him silenced permanently. I doubt you'll even let him get as far as the limo before you put a bullet in his brain."

"Not true!" asserted the agent.

"You've already tried twice," I reminded him. "With all the bullets flying in those attacks, there's no way in Hell you expected to take him alive. Why should I believe you will now?"

"Plans have changed," came the smooth response. "Our boss wants to talk to him—about some missing property."

I spared a fleeting glance over my shoulder at Duo, who shook his head in bewilderment.

"Nice try," I told the FBI agents.

"I'm telling you—our boss just wants to talk to the whore. In fact, he promised all sorts of retribution if we don't bring him in alive. He's got something the boss wants."

"Duo?" I whispered.

"I have no idea what they're talking about," he hissed back. "I never took anything from Khushrenada. Unless he's looking for a piece of ass, I can't think of anything I have that he might be remotely interested in."

I did a brief double-take, catching a hint of something in Duo's voice. "Khushrenada's gay?"

"That or bi, maybe," Duo shrugged. "I just know Zechs went out of his way to keep me from meeting him—acted like he was jealous."

"Is it possible Merquise had something of Khushrenada's?"

"Jesus, Yuy—I don't know!" Duo blurted in frustration. "Zechs never gave me anything worth Khushrenada's attention."

"Time's running out!" Agent Sims called, gesturing to the man holding Catherine.

With a nasty leer, the fellow jerked the girl's arms up a bit harder, making her squeal in a combination of outrage and pain. She kicked at his ankles, causing him to stumble back a step, and he smacked the side of her head with a meaty hand, before pressing a gun to her temple.

"Stop it!" Duo cried, trying once again to push past me. "Take your fuckin' hands off her!"

I prayed he wouldn't yell for Chang to shoot the fucker, revealing my partner's position, though I have to admit to fighting the impulse myself. I had no doubt Wufei's sights were centered on the bastard's forehead, and that he could take him out without harming Catherine. But that left three or four other men who could finish the job before we got them all.

"Come out here, Maxwell, and we'll let the girl go."

"'Ro—."

"You know they're lying!" I snapped at him.

"I don't care!" he shot back. "I can't stand here and let them hurt her!"

Goddamnit! I couldn't see a way around this. If we didn't give Duo up, Catherine would die.

But if we did—Duo would die.

And while I valued his life above even my own, I knew he wouldn't accept the sacrifice of Catherine's.

"I have conditions!" I called out to the men at the car—stalling desperately. "First, you throw down your guns."

He opened his mouth, and I sharply cut him off. "Don't treat me like a fucking idiot! I know every one of you is armed. I want your weapons thrown out of reach, and all of you out of that car!"

"Will that convince you we want Maxwell alive—if we put ourselves in harm's way?"

"No—but it's a show of good faith." More importantly, it would give me a head start on killing them all, which was the foremost plan in my mind. I estimated I could take out at least one—or maybe two—before they got their guns back and took a shot at Duo. Not that they wouldn't have concealed weapons; in fact, I was certain they would. But they'd be harder to get at, and buy me a precious moment or two.

He nodded condescendingly. "Do go on."

"Next, you release Catherine. I want her walking this way before Duo will even start to come out."

"Is that it?"

"No—I want you to take me along with Duo—so I can see for myself he's not harmed."

"Sure—you've got a deal." Sims promptly pulled a gun from a shoulder holster concealed under his jacket and made a big show of tossing it several feet away. Then he gestured for his men to do the same.

"No!" Duo snarled, jerking away from me. "Damn it, Heero—no! You are not going out there with me!"

"I'm not going to just hand you over." I was watching the other FBI agents follow Sims' lead, tempted to curse when I realized there were not five, but six men, including the driver.

"You don't have a choice. It's _my _choice. My life." Duo half-raised a hand as if to touch my cheek, before realizing a gesture like that would reveal our relationship to our enemies. "How will you rescue me if you're their prisoner too?" he said in a lower voice.

"If I walk out there with you, I'll be close enough for a clean shot when they go for their guns. You know they've got them concealed; do you think there's a chance in Hell they won't kill you the instant they have you?"

"I'm hoping they'll hesitate just long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

He smiled slyly, patting a pocket. "Magic, Yuy. Magic."

I felt my eyes widen in a startled gape. "I thought you stuffed protein bars in your pockets!"

"At a time like this?" he teased. "Give me a little credit, love. If it doesn't shoot, cut, or blow up—it's of no use to me right now." His grin had that street punk edge to it once again, as if he were looking forward to wreaking a little havoc.

"God, I fuckin' love you," I breathed, feeling a rush of hope. Between getting them to partially disarm themselves, and having Duo provide a distraction, we might actually pull this off.

"Hurry it up!" yelled Sims impatiently.

"Keep yer shorts on!" Duo snarled back at him, glaring hotly. "You'll get what you want—when I'm damned good and ready. Yuy's not coming with me. I'll come alone. But I want your word that no one will get hurt! You'll let the others go."

"No one will get hurt," Sims called out dutifully, rolling his eyes as if fed up with Duo's doubts. "We just want you. Come along peacefully, and there's no reason for any violence."

"It's a deal then," Duo replied. He let his gaze roam my face as if memorizing every detail. "When I get over there, I'm going to try my disappearing trick. You be ready?"

"I will. Chang, too." I stole a glance at my partner, reaching to scratch the back of my head in order to flash a quick hand signal. _Be ready._

I saw a quick nod of his head in response, and gave Duo a tight smile. "You know Sims was lying, right? You watch those guys—and when they go for a weapon, you _move_. Understood?"

"Completely. Don't you worry about my survival skills, lover. Just be ready to cover my escape, hm?"

"I am."

Duo drew himself up straight, tossing his braid over his shoulder in a contemptuous gesture. "Hey, fuckheads—I'm gonna come over there as soon as I see Cathy free and on her way here!"

We watched as they released Catherine's hands, and she landed a solid punch to the gut of the man trying to hold onto her.

I could see what Chang liked about that woman.

She was shoved bodily away from them, and yanked the duct tape off her own mouth, glaring back at the thugs who'd manhandled her. But then she began a steady, even walk towards Duo.

He flashed me a wink and a grin that didn't hide the stark terror in his eyes, and sauntered in her direction, making sure he didn't block my line of fire to the car and its occupants.

Personally, I was aiming for Sims, as he pissed me off the most. I hoped Chang had his sights on the bastard who hit Cathy, 'cause sure as shit, that man was going to die.

In spite of the fear I'd seen in his eyes, Duo put on an impressive show of bravado, walking with a slow swagger that made him look like a panther on the prowl. I could tell he was measuring his stride and the distance to the limousine, hoping to meet Catherine at less than the halfway point.

"Pick up the pace, Maxwell!" Sims called with a scowl. "It's a fair trade—so don't even think of doubling back!"

"I'm not," Duo snarled in reply. "I'm thinking of how much I'd like to kick your ass!"

Oh yes. His defiance was firmly in place, and I could tell by the tension in his stride and the way his glance flicked to his surroundings, that he was preparing to execute whatever crazy plan he'd cooked up.

I couldn't help thinking how great he'd have been as part of a SWAT team—his spontaneity made him incredible under pressure. Scary as Hell—but incredible.

When Catherine met him in the middle of the parking lot, she threw her arms around him in a crushing hug, almost completely concealing the motion as he slipped something into her pocket. He leaned in as if to kiss her cheek—but I saw his lips move in brief, whispered instructions.

Then the girl released him, running a caressing hand down his arm, and smiling fiercely when she felt the concealed knife. She gave a quick nod, and turned to resume walking towards me, her pace picking up just slightly.

Duo, meanwhile, kept walking towards the limousine with the same leisurely stride as before, his arms loose at his sides, hands curled casually around something I couldn't quite make out at that distance.

Sims didn't wait for Duo to reach him, but stepped out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him towards the car, even as Catherine darted the last few feet towards me. "Get him in the back!" he snapped to his thugs. "And kill the cops and the girl."

"Lying _shit_!" Duo spat furiously.

There was a flash of silver, and I saw him bury his switchblade up under Sims' ribcage, before diving into the back seat of the car.

Sims doubled over, sinking to his knees, and his men groped for their guns, as Chang opened fire, and Catherine pulled something from her pocket, flinging it to the ground hard. There was an impressive "pow" sound and a large cloud of smoke rose to obscure my view of the limo as the girl sprinted to my side.

I had just enough time to pull her behind cover before bullets began flying in earnest, and I pointed her in Chang's direction. "Get up there in the bleachers with Wufei! Stay close to him, no matter what," I told her. "I'm going after Duo!"

I didn't wait to see if she followed my instructions, trusting that the gutsy girl would do so without hesitation, but turned my attention back to the limo and the dissipating cloud of smoke. The men were taking cover behind the doors and returning Chang's fire with rifles they'd probably had stashed inside, though I was pleased to note Sims hadn't moved from his sprawled position on the ground. Nor was the guy who'd hit Catherine showing any signs of life, as he too was slumped on the gravel, courtesy of Wufei's fine marksmanship.

The car was shrouded in smoke, and I realized that during the confusion, Duo had used his own magic smoke bomb. But where the hell _was _he?

Then I heard a sharp whistle, and darted a look to the left, just in time to see him vault the stockade fence. Apparently he'd used the distraction to elude his captors and dash to freedom, and cover.

I slammed the gate closed, taking a moment to wedge the lock back into place, and then tore off at a dead run to find the spot where Duo had re-entered the park. I wanted him at my side again, where I could safeguard his life in person. Not that he hadn't done a fine job on his own—but I was getting tired of such close calls.

He careened around the corner, nearly colliding with me in his haste. "Shit, Yuy! You okay?" He ran his hands and his eyes over me at the same time, checking for injuries.

"Intact. You?"

"Yeah. How 'bout the others?"

"I sent Catherine to Wufei—he'll keep her safe. Meanwhile, you and I need to seek cover." I grabbed his wrist, stole a quick kiss to reassure myself those lips were still alive and warm, and then sprinted towards the places we'd explored earlier, ready for a cat and mouse game with our enemies. "We need a distraction. The bastards will be calling for reinforcements—," I began, stopping at the unmistakable sound of an explosion outside the gate. "What was that?"

"A distraction?" Duo smirked, giving me a devilish wink.

"You made a fucking _bomb_?" I demanded.

"Hey—Cathy had all the raw ingredients! And I wasn't sure smoke and mirrors would be enough, considering where we were going. I was actually thinking of the moose when I made the first one—."

I pulled him into my arms and kissed him hard. "You're fuckin' amazing, Maxwell!"

I wanted to tell him how much I loved him again, but I'd already said that when he'd told me about the smoke bombs. I didn't want him to get tired of hearing it.

Besides, we had much more to worry about. Depending on how many of our enemies had died in the blast, if any, we still had several shooters to dodge, and the added challenge of finding a vehicle in which to flee.

I heard a yell from outside the fence, meaning at least a couple of the rogue FBI agents had been far enough from the limo to survive the explosion. Then the sound of gunfire against metal alerted me to their attempt to get through the gate; I had no doubt they'd be successful.

Grabbing Duo's wrist again, I set off at a run, intent on evading the pending pursuit, and finding a good hiding place where we could make plans for our next move.

If Chang did as we'd discussed, he'd be heading for the control room, planning on using the in-house surveillance to help us keep track of our pursuers.

"Where we goin'?" Duo gasped out as we sprinted between closed-up booths.

"I'm taking you into hiding until Chang's in position."

"Position where?"

"Control booth." I tugged Duo into a narrow space between two boarded-up exhibits, pulling my gun and listening for pursuit over the sound of my pounding heart and Duo's quiet panting.

The slap of running steps echoed on the damp pavement, and then paused at the corner we'd just turned.

"Which way?" came a sharp, irritable voice.

"How the fuck should I know, Dewey? This place is like a maze."

"They can't have gotten far—Maxwell jumped the fence over by the roller coaster, and the cops and girl were near the gate."

"Maybe they split up—like we did."

"Yeah, but sure as shit one of the cops is with Maxwell. Would've taken them a minute to find each other. They've gotta be close."

_Oh, God—if he only knew how close…_

I heard the scratch and static sound of a walkie-talkie, and bit my tongue to keep from cursing aloud at how prepared our enemies were.

"Dewey here. We lost 'em somewhere around the gaming booths and concessions. Any luck with the girl?"

"_Negative—bitch threw a fuckin' knife at Levine, and she and the Chink cop gave us the slip."_

"Keep looking. Marsden and his crew will be here soon."

Fuck! They had reinforcements on the way already.

"_Good. This was supposed to be an easy pickup—a coupla fat-assed detectives babysittin' the whore."_

"Idiot. They already got away twice. If you believed K's bullshit about an easy job, you're a freakin' moron!"

"_Fuck you, too! Jackson out."_

"Dumbshit couldn't find his ass with both hands," muttered the voice I knew as Dewey's. "C'mon, Baker—it's up to you an' me. We find Maxwell an' we can retire on the money K's willing to pay."

"And tell Jackson to go to Hell, too."

"You take the left and I'll take the right."

I pressed back into the narrow space, feeling Duo's warm presence behind me, and his breath against my neck, even as I heard footsteps padding quietly closer.

Not good. If I shot the approaching man, his partner would be all over us. But if I let him get any closer, he was almost certain to see us.

I felt a tug on my sleeve, and Duo proffered a gleaming blade, eyebrows raised speculatively. I shook my head in reply. I wasn't nearly good enough with knives to make a clean kill at that distance.

Instead I pressed the knife back into his hand. "Think you can hit him from here?"

He frowned, and then nodded, and I switched our positions, allowing Duo in front of me, even though my instincts screamed with the desire to keep him sheltered by my body.

Seconds later, a man drew even with our hiding place, and Duo deliberately gave a quiet cough, making him turn sharply towards us.

"Fuck!" he spat, starting to raise his gun just as Duo threw a knife, taking him squarely in the throat. He dropped to the ground, clutching his neck and making a strangled gurgling sound before going still.

His partner apparently was out of sight, since there was no shout of alarm, or the pattering rush of feet.

Duo quickly peeked around the corner of the building and ducked back, giving me a quick nod. "No sign of his buddy," he whispered, drawing a slightly shaking hand across his face.

"You okay?"

"I—never killed anybody before," he admitted. "An' now I've done it twice in, like, ten minutes."

Why had that never occurred to me?

I tugged him close, though there was little time to spare. "Try not to think about it now, love. We've got a long way to go to get out of here."

"I know," he said shakily. "I'm okay. Just—I'm fine."

He pulled himself back together admirably, and we slipped from our hiding place, jogging away from the dead man, towards the end of the alleyway.

But before we got there, we heard the sound of machinery starting up and carousel music blaring from a distant speaker.

"Phase one complete," came Chang's voice over the loudspeakers located on poles at the end of each street.

"What's that mean?" Duo asked.

"He's powered up all the rides, including the remote tram that runs down the middle of the streets inside the park. It will provide cover noise for whatever move we make next—or possibly provide us actual cover as we change positions."

"If there's a phase one—."

"Phase two will be in five minutes," I explained. "At least, it will if Chang can hold his position long enough. He'll try to alert us to our enemies' whereabouts, and at the same time he'll start the roller coaster and other rides one by one. It will keep our pursuers busy jumping at shadows."

"And what will we be doing?"

"Evading them. Eventually, stalking them," I said with a feral growl. "Chang will be doing the same by phase three. I want every last one of them out of action before we leave here—and if possible, a prisoner or two to interrogate."

Duo cracked his knuckles and grinned wickedly. "I'm up for a little bad cop, worse cop."

We reached the end of the row and paused; to the right was the Tunnel of Love, and to the left the House of Horrors. Both were dark places we could hide from pursuit and hope for a chance to get them before they got us.

"Which way?" I asked quietly.

Duo studied both options, and I could see the quick calculations going on behind the big, indigo eyes. With the consummate instincts of a true street rat, he was assessing our chances at escape and evasion in either direction.

Then a shout of "There they are!" from behind us hastened his decision.

"Horrors," he said shortly, tugging me in that direction and breaking into a run. "There'll be wax dummies. The dudes behind us might be fooled into taking potshots at them and betraying their position."

"They might at that," I agreed, following readily. "Or we could pose as wax dummies and get off a few shots of our own."

He grinned briefly, a flash of white teeth, as we dashed inside the building labeled as "The most horrifying, thrill-a-minute experience of a lifetime." Then we were groping our way down a pitch black hallway, following glowing lettering along the walls that directed us to our "doom." When I grabbed a belt loop to keep within arm's reach of my lover, I heard a low chuckle.

"At a time like this?" Duo quipped.

"Any time, any place, Maxwell."

"This is the House of Horrors—not the Tunnel of Love, you know."

"It's dark and you're here; that's all I need," I teased, listening with half an ear for sounds of pursuit.

"God—you'll get me all hot an' bothered an' I won't be able to concentrate on the baddies."

"Sure you will," I replied in just as husky a voice. "You can multitask."

His soft laugh was warm and full of mirth. "I'll show you multitasking later, love. Fuck you clear into next week—."

I groaned quietly, remembering the first time he'd made such an offer. Now that I knew how great he felt—I was perfectly willing to acknowledge his comment wasn't idle boasting.

"The trial's next week," I reminded him. "There's no time for a demonstration."

"Then afterwards."

"It's a date." I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket, flipping it on to help guide us through the dark faster; we really needed distance between us and our enemies.

When we stumbled upon the loading area for the ride, minus an attendant to usher us in, I gave Duo a push towards the nearest cart. "Get in and stay low," I urged, glancing over my shoulder.

He obeyed without hesitation, and as I turned back, I realized he had one of the guns I'd given him gripped tightly, raised to cover me if anyone burst from the tunnel behind us.

Yeah, he was good under pressure all right.

Hearing the echo of voices from far behind us, I dove in next to him and hit the release for the cart, sending it rumbling off along the tracks accompanied by the sound of eerie music starting up.

A voice laced with evil mirth informed us via the speaker on the cart that "the management will not be held responsible for medical expenses incurred by those 'weak of heart' or dry cleaning bills incurred by those 'weak of spirit.'"

Apparently if we puked, peed ourselves, or died of cardiac arrest, they wanted it known they wouldn't take the blame.

The narrative went on, launching into a tale intended to induce fear and suspense in those eager for a chilling experience. "The Five Mad Scientists whose lair you are about to tour were once part of a secret military experiment—the Alliance's plan to create a new 'super-soldier.' In their insane quest for the ultimate warrior, they committed atrocities against man and animal alike—attempting to splice genes, attach robotics, and engineer synthetic life forms. They were willing to breed, create or construct their perfect soldier, no matter the cost. But in the end, their failures cost them their sanity and the support of the Alliance. Because of the danger they posed, they were disavowed and locked away from the world—forever trapped in their laboratory—forever needing subjects on which to conduct their bizarre experiments—forever unfulfilled. This park was built above the underground compound, and this ride will take you through the very heart of the Mad Five's stronghold. But be warned—if you stray from your cart, or are overtaken and pulled from it—you may never see the light of day again!"

Duo chuckled at the lame speech, and then pointed out the sign above the tiny opening our cart was about to pass through, which cautioned us to keep our arms and legs inside the cart at all times. "They've really got liability issues, don't they?" He flashed me a sly look. "Think they'd approve of shootouts on their little thrill ride?"

"Ask me if I care," I quipped back, turning to see if the bad guys had reached the loading platform yet.

And then the bottom dropped out from under us, and I nearly lost my grip on my gun as the cart plunged abruptly down a short, steep incline, seeming to pick up an alarming amount of speed on the way.

"Holy shit!" Duo blurted, one hand white-knuckled on the handlebar across the front of the cart. Then he gave a short, irrepressible laugh as we zigzagged around a series of sharp turns.

I suspected that the darkness of the ride, and possibly piped-in wind, made it seem as if we were going faster than we were, but it still took me a moment to regain my composure.

By the time I did, we'd slowed to a less frantic speed, and were passing the first exhibit in the House of Horrors—a grisly display, with a chainsaw-wielding wax dummy, and a half-dismembered corpse. I suspected live actors were used to add to the scene when the park was up and running—but for the moment, it was merely a gruesome still life, albeit one with recorded screams and chainsaw sounds.

"Lovely," Duo muttered. He eyed the chainsaw, apparently assessing whether it was a real, working one, and sighed unhappily. "Damned prop."

"Good lord, what would you do with it?" I demanded over the wails of pain from the loudspeakers. "Wait around for the FBI goons and hack 'em up?"

"It's a thought. But no. I just wondered if maybe we could—I dunno—drop a telephone pole on 'em or something."

I couldn't help the brief chuckle that escaped, or the image of Duo as a chainsaw-wielding vandal, even as our cart jerked to one side with neck-snapping speed and drew away from the uninspired exhibit, plunging back into darkness and accelerating. "No telephone poles," I assured him. "But I do plan to whittle down their numbers in any way possible."

"Thought cops couldn't do that shit."

"They're cops too, Duo. And they're the ones breaking the rules. We'll fight fire with fire." I frowned after mentioning fire, when I realized there was a hazy fog beginning to fill the tunnel ahead. Surely no one could have set the place on fire already!

"Speaking of which—I've still got a smoke bomb in one pocket and a real one in another," Duo told me.

"Save them for emergencies," I suggested, finally deciding the mist in the passageway was a special effect, rather than the work of our enemies. Then I was struck with yet another worrisome thought. "There's no chance of them going off by mistake, is there?"

"None whatsoever. There's a tiny cap to pop off and a trigger to press in order to start the clock ticking."

"And you did that in the back of a smoke-filled limo?" I asked, raising my voice to be heard over renewed howls and shrieks, as the cart bumped and jerked as if on a pothole-ridden street.

"I was workin' on it the whole way across the parking lot, Yuy. Trust me…it took a bit of doing. Why d'you think I walked so slowly?"

"I thought you were buying time for Catherine to get across…or maybe just showing off your ass."

"That, too," he smirked.

The track curved to the left, and as we rounded the corner, the automated lights came on, illuminating a very realistic and horrific rendition of a mad scientist's laboratory. An automaton played the part of the crazy doctor, holding a vial of nasty-looking liquid up to the light and then flinging it at another automaton who was strapped to a metal framework. Through whatever tricks of lighting and makeup, that automaton began to transform into a grotesque monster, snapping its bonds and lunging towards our cart.

Duo ducked in reflex, letting out a startled yelp before recalling it was all lights and mirrors—a complete fabrication. But when the robot flung a clawed appendage towards us and some of the gooey liquid splashed onto the cart, and my sleeve, I cringed back as well.

"Eww!" Duo protested, flicking gunk off his own clothing. "Too realistic for me!"

"Just be glad it wasn't fake blood—that would be even worse," I teased, dragging my attention away from the gruesome display and focusing on our enemies, who were somewhere behind us.

At least, I thought they were. I'd assumed at least one or two had followed us inside and pursued—though it was entirely possible they'd merely headed for the end of the ride to wait for us there.

That thought chilled me more than the frosty air blasting from overhead ductwork.

Chang's voice over the loudspeaker was a welcome interruption from the eerie music and sound effects, as well as my morbid musings—at least until I heard what he had to say. "Phase two under way. Two or three men on your trail, and reinforcements have arrived in an SUV. Estimate six more!"

There was a banging noise, and I heard my partner bark out instructions I couldn't quite catch, though I clearly heard Catherine's name.

"Phase three!"

And then the speakers went back to the pre-programmed music and sound effects of the House of Horrors.

Duo tugged at my sleeve. "Explain."

"They've located the control room. Chang and Catherine will have to move. They'll no longer be able to track our enemies with the cameras."

"But will the goon squad be able to track us?"

"Not if Chang does his job and disables the monitors before fleeing the control room."

"Fuck, I hope he does," sighed my lover.

As for me—I was wishing I had surveillance so that I could actually see what was happening to my partner. It was every man for himself now, and knowing that at least three of the original FBI guys had survived Duo's bomb and had time to call in their backup was _not _reassuring at all.

"At the next exhibit, let's ditch the cart and look for another way out," I suggested, pulling Duo closer to me as the ride sped up and we began a series of sharp turns in a maze-like pattern.

He didn't hesitate to cling tight, giving a nervous chuckle at the precipitous flight of our vehicle. "Don't hafta ask twice!" he assured me. "I think I'm gettin' carsick."

I smiled at his wry comment, and then frowned as I realized our twists and turns had made us double back so that we were about to face our pursuers virtually head-on, though on parallel tracks.

"Fuck!" I shoved Duo down, seeing a gleam of light on metal as someone in the approaching cart raised a weapon.

A shot glanced off the back edge of our ride, and I returned fire until we'd veered away again and begun a descending spiral.

"Straight to Hell!" Duo called, echoing my thoughts exactly as the cart gained speed.

And then the dizzying circle straightened, and we were swiftly approaching yet another staged scene.

"Time to get out!"

As the cart slowed and the animatronic figures began their "skit," both Duo and I jumped to the platform, ducking into the shadows outside the focused lighting, while our ride puttered on without us.

I ran a hand along the plywood backboard, feeling for a handle. "There's got to be an access door—for repairmen or actors—."

"Here." Duo pushed open a panel that led into a narrow access tunnel. "Think this leads outside?"

"I don't know—we're down pretty far underground I think. There'll have to be stairs or a ladder somewhere." I flashed a light inside, relieved to see a letter and number on the wall, marking the coordinates of the maintenance chute. "If we can find a map of the tunnels, I think I can pinpoint our location—."

Hearing the screech of metal wheels signaling the approach of another cart, I grabbed Duo's arm. "Let's go—."

Then I hesitated, as another thought crossed my mind. "Hang on a sec. You hide in the crawlspace, while I try to take out a couple of our friends back there—."

"You can't take them out alone. You don't even know how many there are," he pointed out.

Then he gestured to the metal table in the staged scene. "Looks like a live actor usually plays the part of the stiff. Let me fill in there—get their attention—so you can get the drop on them."

"I can't have you play decoy, Duo. You're the protected witness!"

"Yeah—and I'd like to _help _keep myself alive. Let me."

Before I could finish mulling it over, he'd darted across and grabbed a bottle of red liquid off the prop table, splashing it across his shirt. He grinned wickedly at me. "They don't know all their shots missed," he pointed out.

Then he draped himself across the table, his braid theatrically trailing over the side—looking very much like a fresh corpse in the eerie lighting.

As our pursuers' cart rumbled towards the platform, I ducked into the crawlspace, keeping the panel cracked open so I had a full view of both Duo and the tracks.

"Look! There—on the table!" I heard one man exclaim.

"Shit!" came a reply.

I watched two men jump from the cart to the stage, a bit disappointed that there weren't more. We really needed to lessen their numbers; and if Wufei was right about six reinforcements, there were still potentially seven enemies above ground waiting for us.

"Jesus Christ, Burke! I _told _you no shooting. Khushrenada wanted him alive!"

They were cautiously approaching the table Duo had sprawled across, their guns held ready.

"Why d'you suppose the cop left him like that?"

"The better to get the drop on you," I answered chillingly. "Lose the guns, boys."

I didn't really expect them to obey, and they didn't disappoint. Instead they spun towards me, and I easily dropped them both with shots to their heads. I wasn't playing around any more. This was a deadly serious game.

Duo sat up and looked wide-eyed at our dead enemies. "Wow. Nice shooting, Yuy."

"Nice acting," I replied, shaking my head.

Then it occurred to me that we could still jump in the slow-moving cart and ride back to the surface, avoiding the long climb through unfamiliar access tunnels.

"The cart, Duo!"

He moved fast, jumping in and holding out a hand. But even as I jumped after him, I saw his glance go past me and his eyes widen in horror. I instantly recalled Wufei saying there were two or _three _men after us. And apparently one had been smart enough to ditch the others before they pulled in at the exhibit, and slip up undetected.

"No!" Duo snatched the gun from his waistband, firing over my shoulder as I shielded him with my body.

I had no idea if he missed or not, as I felt a white-hot stab of pain in my right shoulder, sinking to my knees on the floor of the cart and dragging Duo down with me.

"'Ro? Oh shit—!" Duo pushed me to arm's length, eyes wide and terrified. "How bad—?"

"How bad—what?" I asked blankly, trying to catch my breath.

"You're fucking _shot_, Yuy!" His fingers brushed over my chest, and I looked down to see a spreading red stain seeping through my shirt.

"Well, shit." I sagged back against the seat, fighting a wave of dizziness as the cart careened around some more corners and towards the inevitable conclusion of the ride.


	51. Wild Rides

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty One: Wild Rides

"How fucking bad is it?" Duo demanded, fumbling awkwardly to tear a strip off the hem of his shirt and press it to my wounded shoulder.

"Won't stop me," I assured him, trying to tamp down the pain and focus on my job—my responsibility to protect his life.

"We need Wufei and Cathy," he said rather hoarsely. "I don't know what to do for this, 'Ro!"

"First off, don't panic," I scolded, grimacing and setting my jaw, taking the cloth from him and pressing it against the wound a bit harder.

"Too fuckin' late."

"Second—when this ride ends, be prepared. The reinforcements might be waiting for us at the exit, if the others told them where they'd chased us."

"Jesus," he whispered. "Why the _fuck _did you do that, 'Ro? Why'd you take a goddamned bullet for me?"

"Baka," I chided, managing a wry smile. "Told you I'd do anything for you."

"I don't fuckin' deserve you," he breathed in my ear, pulling me up against him in an almost painful embrace.

"Shoulder—!" I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Shit. Sorry." He sat back, but kept his hands on my arms. I could feel the trembling in his fingers and read the stark terror in his eyes.

"I'm not gonna die," I promised a bit recklessly. While I thought I could probably hang on long enough to get us out of the ride and back to the surface, I wasn't at all sure what would happen from there. The bleeding wasn't so bad that I'd die of blood loss any time soon—but that also might mean part of the bullet was still in there, and would need to be removed later.

Of course, that added to my conviction that they wanted Duo alive. They were using weapons with a small enough caliber to inflict less damage.

On the heels of that thought came a nagging question about _why _Khushrenada had changed his mind about taking Duo alive. Clearly he thought Duo had something he wanted—and if he needed him alive, it was so he could reveal its location. Unless Duo was right about the "piece of ass." But I doubted Khushrenada would risk a murder conviction for a simple fuck—no matter _how _great Duo was in the sack.

A sharp slap against my cheek made me look up in surprise, to meet worried indigo eyes. "Stay with me," Duo growled firmly.

"I am." I put a hand to my cheek, glaring accusingly.

"You were drifting," he pointed out. "Thought you were gonna pass out."

"I was thinking!" I snapped back. "Next time just—say my _name _or something!"

He blinked, and then smiled, relief flooding his face. "You are gonna be okay, aren't you?"

"Think so," I shrugged, immediately sorry I'd moved my shoulder as another wave of pain lanced through it. "Probably." I darted him a resentful glance. "If you quit smacking me around."

The next thing I knew, his lips were practically devouring mine, and his arms were pulling me against him, though their gentleness assured me he was very conscious of my wound. He pulled back, running a thumb over my lips in a soft caress. "Don't even think about dying, Yuy. I can't live without you."

"Yeah—same here," I admitted, leaning into his touch for a brief instant, and then looking past him to the flashing lights that signaled we were nearing the end of the ride. "Showtime," I rasped out, pulling myself together and using my uninjured left arm to drag Duo down beside me. "Stay low."

"—says the wounded cop," he chided, drawing his gun and preparing to help defend us.

If the ride ended in a gradual slow-down, we might have had a chance to leave the cart and slip away in the shadows. But instead, it careened down a roller coaster of a hill, up and down several bouncy slopes, and then jerked to a sudden standstill directly beside an eerily-lit platform.

"Ride's over," came a cold voice, accompanied by the cocking of a gun. "Toss your weapons out and put your hands behind your heads."

With both of us clinging to the handrail for dear life, there was no way we could have raised a weapon quickly enough to keep from being cut down. We had no choice but to surrender, though Duo did it with his usual defiance.

"Fuck you!" Duo snarled, standing up to glare down the barrel of the gun the man in charge was holding. "He's hurt. He can't raise his hands!"

The man's gaze raked Duo with an appraising look and then dropped to me. "Detective Yuy, I presume?"

I didn't even bother to answer; I just chucked my gun out the other side of the cart, and struggled to my feet beside Duo, realizing with dismay that there were three men holding weapons on us. We were well and truly fucked.

My lover followed suit, discarding the gun he'd still had loosely gripped in one hand. But then he apparently saw something in the lead agent's menacing expression that made him take a half-step to shield me with his own body. "I'll tell you right now, asshole—you kill him and you'll have to kill me too."

The man gave a knowing leer. "Well—didn't take you long to replace Merquise, did it?" He spared a glance at his cohorts. "Looks like we didn't have to make up that story for the Tattler; they really _were _shackin' up."

"So what if we were?" Duo snapped, putting both hands on his hips. "I hadda do something to stay entertained." He glanced back at me, and I tried to look suitably casual when he threw me a reassuring wink before turning to face our captors again. "Don't read too much into it, shithead. Who wouldn't fuck a cop who looked like that?"

Ah. Apparently he realized belatedly that he'd tipped our hand to the bad guys, and that they could use us as leverage against one another. He was trying for some quick damage control—thinking on his feet, like always.

Meanwhile, I was just focused on staying on my feet, and not slumping to the floor of the cart again. My shoulder was throbbing in time with my pulse, and I could feel the slow spread of blood down both the front and back of my body.

"Then what's it to you if he dies or not?" taunted the man in charge.

"He was a really _good _fuck," Duo sneered in reply. "It'd be a waste. And—I'd kinda like a chance to do him again, once my business with Khushrenada's done."

"You won't be 'doing' anyone for awhile," came the snide response. "An' I wouldn't count on living through whatever K. wants you for." He let his gaze slide from Duo's head to his toes, a vaguely speculative gleam in his eyes. "Talk about a waste—."

He shook his head, and then just as quickly was all business again. "Check them both for more weapons and tie 'em up. I'll have Jenkins bring the car."

He walked out, and the two men who'd been with him came forward and pulled us from the cart up onto the platform. Then they frisked us, removing the one throwing knife Duo still had strapped to his wrist, and confiscating his makeshift bombs. They also found my spare gun tucked in the back of my belt, and the extra clip of ammo in my pocket. The rest of our weapons had been left behind at the entrance booth when we'd had to bolt from our attackers.

"What 'n Hell's this?" asked the brighter-looking of the two men, holding up the tennis-ball sized bomb Duo had constructed, while his partner was busy binding Duo's wrists behind his back.

Duo looked at it for a moment, and then shrugged. "One of those balls that makes stupid noises when you throw it for your dog," he said casually. "Want me to show you how to turn it on?"

"Naw—I c'n figure it out." He started turning it this way and that, looking for a switch. And then he smiled brightly, flipping back the little cap Duo had told me about. "Got it."

Jesus Christ! I didn't know whether to warn the man or not. On the one hand, I wanted to watch the fucker and his pal get blown to kingdom come; but on the other, I didn't want to go with them.

The same thought must have occurred to Duo, because he darted a quick look around, and then met my worried gaze and nodded towards the track. It was set down below the concrete platform on which we were standing, and was probably the safest place to be in case of an explosion.

Right. I knew where to dive for cover—but the _how _was still up for grabs.

The man triumphantly pushed the tiny button set into the ball, and a faint beeping sound started up. "See? Easy," he gloated, tossing the ball from hand to hand.

It occurred to me that as stupid as he and his cohort were, they were probably just cheap muscle hired for the job, rather than actual rogue FBI agents, as their leader seemed to be.

"Nichols—you're a fuckin' idiot," snarled his buddy, trying to grab the thing away from him. "We ain't got time for this shit."

Well, wasn't _that _the God's honest truth?

I looked over at Duo, and he mouthed "twenty seconds" at me. That meant we were already down to about ten.

"It ain't makin' any stupid noises," Nichols complained, glaring at the ball accusingly and giving it a hard shake.

Goddamn! The man was going to blow us all to smithereens if he kept that up.

Desperate for a distraction, I quickly put a hand to my bleeding shoulder, letting out a fairly theatrical moan, and staggering as if about to pass out.

Nichols and his pal immediately turned their attention to me, the ball still clutched in one unwary hand. "What'sa matter? Cops can't take a little pain?"

"Fuckin' hurts like Hell," I said truthfully. And then I gave a malicious smile. "But not as much as what comes next."

"Huh?"

"He means 'fire in the hole'!" Duo said helpfully, throwing himself into the pit where the cart had stopped.

Nichols and the other man turned sharply, and I followed Duo's lead, diving headfirst onto the tracks just before the ear-splitting explosion took out our captors and half the wall of the House of Horrors.

Smoke filled the close quarters, and debris rained down on us, as I crouched there, clutching my throbbing shoulder and biting back a scream. That leap hadn't been without cost. Even though the bad guys hadn't had time to tie me up, making a sudden move like I did had caused my shoulder to flame with new agony and well even more blood.

"Duo?" I called hoarsely, blinking in the haze and trying to find the spot I'd seen him fall.

"Here," came a muffled reply.

I found him on his knees, bent over and coughing weakly as he struggled against the rope binding his wrists.

"You okay?"

"Swell." He looked up and blinked back tears the smoke had caused.

"We've got to move. Their boss will have heard that, and he'll be back."

"No shit." He stumbled to his feet, and I pulled myself up, reaching for his bonds.

But the sound of running feet and shouting voices changed my plans.

"No time," I gasped. "Let's get out of here." I paused only long enough to snatch my discarded gun from the floor between the tracks, and then we ran for our lives.

It would have been comical under any other circumstances—Duo with his hands tied behind his back, and me wounded enough to need to lean on him for support. Between the two of us, we could barely manage a stumbling jog out of the ruins of the House of Horrors, and into the alley between more attractions.

If our lives hadn't been on the line, it might've been fucking hysterical; but as it was, I found nothing to laugh about. In all likelihood, we were about to be riddled with bullets.

"There! By the cotton candy booth!"

Duo and I ducked behind a building and crossed an asphalt walkway, slipping between two more booths and coming out into a sort of central hub. In the middle was a pavilion, with openings the size of garage doors at regular intervals, and the sound of loud carousel music bursting from within.

We could glimpse the swirl of colors and motion of leaping painted animals through the nearest opening, and I immediately thought of hiding in the colorful scenery. Our pursuers would have a hard time spotting us amid so much noise and movement, and with any luck, if they stumbled across us, we could jump off on the opposite side and give them the slip.

I half-dragged Duo over to it, shoving him on ahead of me. "Find something to hide behind, and if they spot us, we'll jump off on the other side!"

It was a good plan. Really. Right up until Duo darted across the platform, hands still bound and useless, only to have his braid wrap around the leg of one of the rearing horse figures as he turned too sharply.

He was yanked to a sudden halt by the rope of hair tangled in the curve of the horse's knee. "Ah! Fuck!"

"Sonofa—!" I caught myself against the side of the wooden animal, tucking my gun into the back of my trousers, and reaching with my good arm to try to disentangle the heavy braid.

"Jesus, Yuy—here they come!" Duo yelped in panic, gesturing with his chin to where I could see suited figures emerging from the direction of the ruined House of Horrors just as we passed one of the doorways.

Three. There were three more. At least.

And if the carousel completed its circular path when they were looking our way, we'd be sitting ducks.

"Go!" Duo hissed at me, looking ruefully at his wayward hair. "There's no time to untangle me. Get Chang and come back for me."

"No. I won't leave you," I argued reasonably, working at the braid and wondering how on Earth it had managed to twist itself so creatively around that stupid horse leg.

"They'll kill you!"

I pushed Duo up against the horse he was stuck on, pressing myself over him and holding very still as we came around to where our pursuers were. I think we flew past the door quickly enough that they didn't pick us out among the prancing wooden animals. But I saw them spreading out to look for us—two heading off to the sides, while the third entered the pavilion and stepped up onto the carousel to begin searching amid the animal figures.

With a sharp jerk that cost me more pain than I'd have thought possible, I snapped off the horse leg, pulling Duo's hair free, and shoving him towards the far side of the platform.

"Run, Maxwell!" I ordered, reaching for the gun in my waistband. "And don't look back."

I don't know why I thought he'd obey me, when he'd proven time and again that taking orders was against his nature. For an instant, I thought maybe he hadn't heard me over the jarring calliope music.

"I go where you go," he gasped defiantly, proving he was just being his usual, stubborn self.

Resisting the urge to scream, I shoved him hard, raising my voice over the background noise . "You are useless with your hands tied! Get under cover, and let me pick off that asshole!"

He finally gave in, darting past a cart drawn by two swans, and leaping nimbly from the platform.

I lost sight of him as the carousel continued to turn, and forcibly put him out of my mind, concentrating on sidling between brightly colored, moving animals and trying to see where the FBI man had gone. But apparently the motion and lights were as much of a hindrance to me as they were to him.

Or maybe it was just the fact that my vision was graying around the edges as the amount of blood I'd lost began to take its toll.

Fuck! I was going to pass out and leave Duo a sitting duck for Khushrenada's lackeys to pick up at their leisure.

Jesus, where was Chang?

I staggered, catching myself on a winged llama, and turned my head just quickly enough to catch a glimpse of my enemy ducking between wooden figures not far from where I'd last seen Duo.

Before I could reverse direction and try to head him off without him realizing how close he was—the lights and music abruptly stopped, and the spinning ride began to coast to a halt.

Someone had taken charge of the control room, and shut down everything at once.

And I didn't think it was Wufei.

* * *

In the sudden silence that fell over the deserted amusement park, I could clearly hear the pounding of my pulse in my ears, and the harshness of my breath. I moved one foot, very cautiously, only to have a floorboard squeak loudly, betraying my exact position.

Freezing into immobility, I huddled by the wooden llama, one arm thrown over a wing for support, and tried to see where the rogue agent was.

"Might as well come out, Yuy. I've got Maxwell," came an almost matter-of-fact voice.

"Sure you do," I sneered, narrowing my eyes and trying to pinpoint his location.

"He does," came a weary affirmation.

I groaned, closing my eyes in despair.

"You'd best move where I can see you, or I may have to disappoint my boss and kill your little whore."

I staggered away from the support of the animal figure, and saw the same guy who'd gotten the drop on us at the end of the House of Horrors ride. He was a persistent bugger; I had to give him that much.

He had Duo's braid wrapped around a hand, and his gun pressed to my lover's temple. It looked like he'd caught him trying to make it out one of the doors.

"Toss the gun, Yuy."

"I haven't got—."

"Bullshit! Toss it!"

I reluctantly pulled the gun from my belt and threw it off to the side, and then pressed my free hand to my wounded shoulder, using the stab of pain to fend off unconsciousness a bit longer. "What now?" I sighed.

Before he could answer, we heard gunshots off in the distance, and the faint echo of voices calling between the buildings. But it was too far to make out exactly what was being said.

I raised my chin hopefully, giving our captor the most menacing look I could manage. "Sounds like maybe you lost your backup," I pointed out. "Could be it's just you and us."

"Then it's a good thing I've got the gun." He pulled Duo back against him, sliding an arm around his neck from behind and keeping the gun pointed at his head. "Let's head for the main gate; our ride's waiting."

I stumbled wearily off the platform and walked towards them, wanting to be close enough to take action if a chance for escape came along.

Duo cursed as the man forced him towards the exit, resisting the forward motion and turning his head just a bit so he could look at the man out of the corner of his eye. "C'mon, man. Can't we make a deal?"

"No deals, Maxwell. You've got nothing I want."

Bullshit. I'd seen the way his eyes lingered on my lover the first time we encountered him, and I knew he was attracted—maybe even interested. And Duo did, too.

He grimaced, closing his eyes momentarily. "Listen," he said in a voice that could have been throaty and seductive, or maybe just choked up from the arm around his neck. "I c'n make it worth your while to let me go."

The man snorted in genuine amusement. "As pretty as you are, I doubt it."

Duo rocked his hips back so that his ass ground against the front of the man's pants. "Wanna bet, sugar?" he crooned suggestively.

I saw the flicker of pleasure across the man's face, and the lustful gleam that entered his eyes. "Not gonna bet a million bucks," he warned. "But I might be willing to have a go before I hand you over."

"A-a million?" Duo echoed faintly.

"Yeah. Khushrenada upped the ante; that's how much he wants you."

"Fuck!"

"Yeah, maybe I will," said the man, rubbing his cheek against the back of Duo's hair, and smirking nastily. "But it won't get you out of this mess."

"Nothing's free," Duo warned, his attention focused on the man holding him captive, but his eyes on me. "You want me to show you a good time—I need some incentive."

"I'd think being allowed to live would be payment enough," replied the agent, his free hand catching hold of Duo's chin, while he held the gun steadily against it.

"Not for what _I _can do," came the sultry reply. "Y'think a high roller like Merquise would settle for less than the best? You make me the right offer, and I'll show you the time of your life."

The man frowned speculatively, once again studying the full lips and half-lidded eyes.

"C'mon, hotshot—you know you want some; some of what men like Merquise and Khushrenada can afford." With his hands conveniently bound behind his back, Duo was able to reach the man's zipper, and run teasing fingers along its length. "I'm way more ass than you'll ever have on a piddling little field agent's salary. And you can either find out why—or hand me over to Khushrenada and never know what you're missing."

Jesus—did he really think the guy was going to buy into this? Khushrenada was offering a fortune for Duo's capture. There was no way our captor would throw that away for a quick fuck.

And as I expected, he laughed at the suggestion. "I'm handing you over no matter how good a piece of ass you are. But if you treat me right, I might not kill the cop."

Duo's expression brightened just a bit, and he shot me a lingering glance that was full of meaning. Then he tore his gaze away, turning his head towards the man. "I need more than that; let the cop go."

"No!" I blurted, realizing he was trying to barter for my life, not believing the man would honor a promise to let me live, or that Khushrenada wouldn't kill me the minute we were in his hands.

Duo shot me a look that was half-angry and half-pleading. "Yuy, shut up!" he snapped. "It's over. Y'got that? Over! He's takin' me to Khushrenada, and there's nothing gonna stop that. Just—walk away from this."

"No."

The man with the gun chuckled. "You haven't got a choice, detective. Better listen to the whore and just get yourself out of here while you can."

"My job is to protect him," I said evenly.

"That ended when this goon got the drop on me," Duo retorted. "Look—Khushrenada's willing to talk. That means I've got something he wants. Maybe he'll be willing to make a trade and let me live."

"You know better."

He gave a weak smile. "Yeah, but right now it's my only chance."

The rogue agent laughed mockingly. "You two are just fuckin' pathetic. If it was any more obvious you're lovers, you'd have to wear a sign." His cold gaze studied me, taking in the blood leaking from between my fingers. "Oughta put you out of your misery—but I think I'd rather let you watch." He jerked his head towards a bench along one wall. "Go sit down before you fall down, detective."

I opened my mouth to protest, and he tapped the side of Duo's head with the gun. "Hurry it up!"

I had no choice but to stagger over and sink down onto the wooden bench, fighting another wave of dizziness.

Duo apparently saw me sway and catch myself, because a frown creased his forehead. He tensed as the FBI agent's hand slipped from around his neck and ran down the front of his chest. "I said let him go, asshole—not make him watch!" he barked out angrily.

"You're in no position to make demands," the hated man reminded him, rubbing suggestively over the zipper of his jeans. "But you make me feel good enough, and we'll leave the cop here, instead of taking him with us."

"You'll leave him _alive_," Duo insisted.

"Alive."

"Deal!"

With a husky groan, the agent groped the front of Duo's jeans, and I was halfway to my feet before he swung the gun in my direction and clucked a mocking warning. "Uh-uh. Don't make me break the deal already, detective."

Duo caught my eye and frowned just slightly in warning, then turned a perfectly dazzling grin to our captor. "C'mon, fucknuts—forget about him and concentrate on _me_."

The man turned Duo to face him, placing the muzzle of the gun up under his chin and studying his narrowed eyes. "Tell me—can those pretty lips of yours do anything but swear?"

"You'd be fuckin' amazed at what they can do," bragged my lover. "Wanna taste?" He parted his lips and ran his tongue over them.

The man gave a derisive snort. "You really _are _a fuckin' whore—."

"Sure—for the right price," Duo lied smoothly.

I shifted slightly, wincing at the sharp stab of pain it caused in my wounded shoulder, and then froze in astonishment at a flicker of motion from the other side of the carousel. Oh God—did I dare hope the slim figure I'd seen duck around the corner was Wufei?

Duo caught my wide-eyed look over the FBI agent's shoulder, and I caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then he very deliberately leaned in and pressed his lips to his captor's.

The man groaned into the kiss, releasing Duo's chin and sliding a hand into his hair to hold him in place for the duration.

And as much as I wanted to move—to leap to Duo's defense—the gun muzzle was still pressed up under his chin. The risk was too great. If that gun went off—.

Duo pulled back, chuckling warmly. "Not bad, sugar," he crooned, doing his damnedest to distract the man. "But you've gotta move that gun if you want me to go down on you." He smiled evilly. "And you know you want it."

Sure enough, the gun slid away; in fact, the man foolishly tucked it into the back of his pants before fumbling at his zipper with one hand, and pushing Duo to his knees with the other.

And the instant Duo was below the line of fire, I heard the loud report of a gun, and the odious FBI agent fell backwards with a bullet in his head.

"Chang!" Duo gasped, turning a pale face towards my partner, who crossed to him in a few quick strides. "Jesus—am I glad to see you—! Heero's been shot!"

I was busy struggling to get up when I felt an arm slide around my waist, and found Catherine helping me to my feet.

"Shot?" she asked, quickly spotting the blood-soaked shoulder and tugging the fabric away so she could look at the wound. "How long ago?"

"Ten—maybe fifteen minutes," Duo answered, shaking off the ropes Wufei had untied from his wrists and rushing to my side. "Can you fix him up, Cath?"

"I'll do my best—as soon as we get away from here—."

I shook free of her and pulled Duo into my arms, ignoring my wound. "Goddamn fucker—touching you!" I spat angrily. "Don't ever ask me to sit by and watch something like that again!"

He chuckled softly, relief tingeing his voice. "Can't promise that, love. If it'd save your life—."

"No!" I said sternly. "There's nothing worth letting slime like that put his hands on you!"

"Shh," he soothed, kissing my cheek softly and running his hands through my hair. "It's over. Never again." He pushed me to arm's length and smiled gently. "I think it bothered you more than it bothered me."

"I thought you hated being called a whore."

"I do—but I wasn't exactly in a position to get pissed about it right then."

"You're _not _a whore!"

His smile was warmer than sunshine. "Thanks," he whispered, pulling me close again.

"If we could get back to the business at hand," Wufei cut in brusquely. "We still have at least one enemy out there—the man at the car—and we need to get the Hell out of here in case _he's _called in more reinforcements."

"Fuck, yes!" Duo breathed, taking Catherine's place supporting me, as we headed out of the park and towards our escape vehicle.

"How many adversaries did you disable?" Chang asked, walking slightly ahead of us and scanning for threats.

"Two at the limo," I managed hoarsely, my adrenaline edge fading and leaving me feeling even weaker than before. "One before the House of Horrors—three inside—two at the end—."

"Then there's the bastard you just took out," Duo added. "And by the way, Chang—thanks for having the best timing ever."

"You're welcome. Catherine wounded one agent when they first came after us, and I shot two more on the way to the carousel just now—so that accounts for one wounded and eleven dead. If six came in each vehicle—we should only face one remaining enemy."

"That'd be nice," Duo sighed, tightening his grip on my waist. "How ya holdin' up, love?"

"Barely," I admitted.

"Don't worry," came Catherine's voice, calm and confident, in spite of our situation. "It probably looks worse than it is because of the blood. If you're still on your feet after this long, the wound shouldn't be fatal. We'll stop at a pharmacy and get you patched up in no time."

"God, woman—!" Wufei blurted, sounding impressed. "Does nothing faze you?"

"I've helped treat men with injuries inflicted by lion claws," Catherine replied matter-of-factly. "It takes quite a lot to gross me out."

"Some gal, eh?" Duo teased.

"Yes, she is," came Chang's frank reply.

They talked some more, but I didn't really catch much of it as I faded in and out, my senses occupied with the pounding of blood in my ears and the effort it took to draw breath as Duo helped keep me stumbling along.

Perhaps it was my attention to keeping my feet under me that made me notice rather insignificant things like the way the leftover rain puddles had traces of white at their edges—hints of brine that made me think of the ocean, and how much Duo wanted to get back there some day.

And I really hoped that "some day" would include me—if we could get rid of the bullet that felt like it was burning through my shoulder, and bind the wound before I'd lost too much blood.

We reached the main gate not a moment too soon—as I felt my knees begin to buckle.

Duo caught me and eased me to the ground, crouching beside me. "Hey—don't quit on me now."

"I'll get the car," Chang offered, pointing to a nearby SUV that had apparently been driven right through the chain link fence. "Looks like no one's in it."

"Careful—," I gasped. Nothing had been easy so far—there was no reason to expect it to be that way now.

He waved back dismissively, and cautiously crept up on the vehicle, checking it inside and out, and even underneath.

"All clear!" he called to us.

Duo and Catherine pulled me upright again, and the three of us started across the asphalt, eager to reach shelter and transportation.

Maybe it was because I was still in a muddled state of pain, but I was keeping my gaze fixed on the horizon, and so I happened to spot the motion of a figure emerging from between buildings and raising a weapon.

Of course—there _had _to be one more, didn't there?

Wufei was pulling open the back door of the car, unaware of the emerging threat off to his side—but before I could even fumble for a gun I no longer had, Catherine shoved away from me, putting two fingers to her lips and whistling loudly and sharply.

The man who'd been sighting on my oblivious partner, swung towards the girl, who was already balancing a gleaming blade in her hand and drawing back her arm to throw. Before he could bring his weapon to bear, the knife flew from her hand and took him squarely in one wide, startled eye.

He stiffened and fell backwards, spread-eagled on the ground.

Chang turned a stunned gaze on the girl, his jaw agape. "Cath—you—."

"Nice throw," Duo said with a grin.

"You saved my life," Wufei pointed out.

She shrugged modestly. "Perhaps I have a vested interest in it."

The next thing we knew, Chang crossed the intervening space and pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately.

"Well, shit—he didn't do that when _I _saved his life," muttered my lover snidely.

I gave a weak laugh, leaning even harder on Duo for support as he glared at Wufei. "Let 'em have their moment," I rasped hoarsely.

"Moment?" he scoffed. "At this rate it'll be more like an hour!"

When the enamored couple still showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, Duo helped me into the back seat of the car, rummaging for a discarded jacket from one of the rogue agents and bundling it under my head.

"Soon as the lovebirds come up for air, we can swing by the entrance booth for our duffel bags and hit the road, lover."

I managed a feeble nod, catching his hand and bringing it to my lips. "I love you," I said firmly. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You know that, don't you?"

"Kinda got that impression," he smiled back, running a hand down my cheek, his expression slightly melancholy. "Just—if anything should happen—."

"Shush." I gripped his hand tighter, not liking the fatalistic tone. "Nothing will happen to you. It's over. We're going to the courthouse and walk right in—no more ducking and hiding."

He opened his mouth, and then shut it, smiling and nodding. "Whatever you say, love. Whatever you say."


	52. R&R

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Two: R&R

I tried to keep talking to Duo, if only to maintain consciousness—but it was a losing battle. By the time Chang took the driver's seat, and Catherine climbed in beside him, I could feel myself fading.

I was dimly aware of the motion of the car from time to time, and the steady throb of my shoulder. But even that eventually faded into oblivion, and I must've slept.

* * *

I woke slowly to near-darkness, feeling the motion of the car, and hearing the steady thwap of windshield wipers and rain drumming on the roof. My head was resting on something warm and yielding—and when fingers brushed lightly across my forehead as if checking for fever, I guessed it was Duo's lap.

"…how's he doing?"

"Okay, I think." The fingers traced lightly down my face, and his hand settled on my chest. "Goddamnit, Chang—this wasn't supposed to happen!"

"I know, Maxwell. But considering the situation, and the opposition we face, it's not exactly surprising."

"I don't want you guys to die for me!" Duo said fiercely.

"And we won't," my partner soothed. "But neither will we let you die. Remember, our job is to keep you alive."

"What's the point, if Heero—?" Duo sighed in a frustrated huff of breath. "Look, Chang—I know you guys have done your best. Honestly. You've gone above and beyond."

"So have you, Maxwell. So have you. You've been calmer under fire and more capable than ninety percent of protected witnesses. You've made it through some very tough circumstances."

"Only because you two busted your asses," Duo replied firmly. "So if anything goes wrong—."

"It won't."

"But if it does—I need you to do me a favor."

"Maxwell—."

"'Fei—just listen to the favor before you argue with me. If something happens, or even if it doesn't—if they succeed in shipping me off into relocation—would you—take care of Heero for me?"

"Jesus," muttered my partner.

"Please."

"You don't have to beg," came the quick, firm reply. "He's my partner, and my friend. I'd take care of him whether you asked me to or not."

"I know," Duo sighed. "I just needed to hear you say it—that you'll be there for him, an' make sure he's okay, no matter what happens."

"I will. And I'd do the same for you, Maxwell."

I heard a quick, indrawn breath. "Y'mean that, Chang?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"But—we haven't exactly been—pals—you an' me."

"Oh, Maxwell." My partner chuckled warmly. "Maybe not—but we're getting there."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Duo's fingers were lightly rubbing along the edge of my collar, and I decided their little chit-chat was winding down. So I shifted slightly and made noise to indicate I was waking up.

"Hey, lover," came a whisper of warm breath in my ear. "You back with us?"

"Hn," I grunted noncommittally, wincing as I moved my injured arm.

"Careful," he soothed. "Right now it's not bleeding. Y'don't want to start it up again."

"Yuy? You awake?" came Chang's voice, with an undercurrent of concern I knew well.

"Unfortunately," I quipped dryly.

"We stopped at a pharmacy and picked up supplies. When we've traded vehicles and found a place to rest, Catherine will get that bullet out and bind the wound properly."

"Swell." I didn't even want to think about how much that was going to hurt. So my mind moved on to other concerns. "Trade vehicles? How?"

"Barton's on his way to meet us. We decided this car probably has a GPS unit, and that our enemies will pinpoint its location as soon as they discover we've taken it."

That made sense—unpleasant and inconvenient sense.

"But if Barton's driving it, he'll be in harm's way—."

"Tro' has a plan," Duo assured me. "We're meeting him near a freight yard, and he's gonna put the SUV on a train headed west and hitch a ride somewhere Quatre will be waiting to pick him up."

I blinked sleepily. "Too complicated," I muttered, raising my good hand and rubbing at my eyes. "Can't think that well."

Duo chuckled quietly. "Then don't. Just rest, love, and put yourself in our capable hands, hm?"

I nodded, already drifting again, and let myself ease back into the painless oblivion of sleep.

* * *

The next time I awakened it was to a cool rush of air as the car door was opened and hands lifted me from the seat.

"Careful—."

"Watch the shoulder—."

"Shh—try not to wake him—."

"—blankets and heater on—brought forceps and needles—plus a disposable cell phone."

"You're the best, Tro'."

"—just glad you're all okay. And Cathy—."

"I'm fine!"

"I know—just—when I heard you were _with _them—."

"—not her idea."

"When I think what could've happened to her—to all of you—."

"—didn't."

"Thank God. Quatre's frantic—."

The voices went on conversing in fragmented whispers around me as I was bundled into a different vehicle, wrapped in warm blankets, and tucked in with my head once again pillowed in Duo's lap.

At least I hoped it was his—as I didn't relish the thought of resting my head on my still mildly homophobic partner's crotch.

The thought made me chuckle weakly, and gentle fingers immediately ran through my hair in a soothing gesture.

"Shh, love. We're almost there. Just have to find the hotel where Cathy booked a room."

"Huh?"

"She checked the map and called a place further down the coast. We've got a room reserved, and she'll get you all patched up."

"Safe?"

"It'll be very safe," he promised. "We're in a new car—not traceable or trackable. And no one knows where we're headed except you, me, Cathy an' Wufei. Not even Trowa."

"Gotta get you to court—," I recalled, wondering if I'd lost more than a day in my haze of pain.

"Plenty of time. Would you just stand the fuck down and let us handle it?"

I managed a ghost of a smile at Duo's exasperated tone. "My job—," I reminded him. "And my love."

His rebuttal was cut short, and I heard a soft groan of longing. "Yeah, and you're mine." Soft lips brushed my forehead and then my lips. "Promise me forever?"

"Forever," I agreed promptly.

And then just as promptly, I dozed off again, lulled by the motion of the car as it pulled away from the curb and onto the smooth highway.

* * *

The next time I woke, I felt more alert than the previous times. Once again the vehicle was stopped, and I heard voices and doors opening and closing.

"Which cabin—?"

"Twelve—off by itself—."

"Perfect."

The car was set into motion again, though only for a short distance, and then pulled onto a bumpy surface—grass I guessed—and came to a stop before the engine was shut off.

"Home, sweet home," Wufei said wearily. I could hear the yawn in his voice. "I could sleep for a week."

"If you'd let me do some driving—," Duo began.

"And have _me_ take a turn as Yuy's pillow? I think not."

"Cathy could've—."

"Not on _my _watch."

"Jesus, Chang—he's gay. He wouldn't give a shit if he was fuckin' face down in her lap—."

"Stop now!"

"Man. Touchy."

I heard Catherine's soft laugh, and something about how endearing it was that Wufei was possessive. Or maybe she said "possessed;" I was delirious with pain, so I couldn't tell for sure.

I must have groaned aloud, still feeling the ache from being bounced by the uneven driveway, because Duo's voice promptly spoke in my ear. "Sorry. No more jostling as soon as we get you inside and into bed."

I forced myself to sit up, determined not to be carried again. "I can make it," I lied boldly.

Duo's wide eyes studied my face, apparently not liking what he saw. "You're white as a sheet. Let Chang and me carry you."

"You can help me," I conceded. "But I'm walking."

"Fuckin' stubborn cop," he muttered, pulling away and swinging the door wide so that he and my partner could help me out.

I almost succeeded in walking, except that my knees didn't seem to want to support me. So it ended up with Wufei bracing me up on one side, and Duo on the other—essentially carrying me upright into the cottage and depositing me on a soft, downy mattress.

God, it felt Heavenly compared to a vinyl car seat.

While I savored the warmth and softness of my new resting place, the others moved around the small cabin, bringing in our belongings and getting us settled in.

Duo headed for the kitchenette, asking which kind of soup Catherine thought would be best for me, and she called back 'chicken' and something about boiling some water to sterilize forceps.

Oh, shit. There was still that damned bullet to deal with.

At my quiet groan, Duo appeared by my side, brushing my hair back and leaning in to kiss my forehead. "Hang on," he urged. "We're almost set up. Cathy will tend that wound, and then I've got some soup heating up so we can get a bit of nutrition into you."

"Mother hen," I scolded teasingly.

"You bet your ass."

I closed my eyes and just listened to the soft murmur of voices, resigning myself to being useless until I was properly bandaged and fed. But after that, I was going to be firmly in charge again.

* * *

It didn't seem like long before Duo was at my side again. On Catherine's orders, he put a folded towel under my injured shoulder, and brought a table lamp over to shine brightly while the girl worked.

She cut away my shirt with practiced ease, using a warm, wet cloth to soak it enough to loosen the dried blood. And then she nodded to Wufei, who eased up to the side away from Duo.

"You don't need to hold me down," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm not a fucking baby."

"No—but you might jerk involuntarily—and that could cause me to injure you more," Catherine explained gently. "The forceps are going to be very uncomfortable when I go fishing for that bullet."

"Just do it," I growled.

She glanced at Chang for permission, and he gave a tight nod.

I had to admit, the girl was no liar. When she started poking around in my wounded shoulder with those goddamned forceps, it felt like a hot knife sliding into the flesh.

I'd like to say I didn't so much as whimper—but I'm fairly sure I did. I might even have let slip a whine or two, as she pried the first fragment of metal out and dropped it into a dish with a solid clunk.

I know I had a death grip on one of Duo's hands; it's a wonder I didn't break it. But he kept up a steady, soothing monologue—prattling on about the beautiful scenery around the cottage, and how he'd take me out to see it as soon as Catherine said it was okay.

And amazingly, his soft, beloved voice _did _help distract me from the positively excruciating pain as the girl from the circus dug out the second, and final, piece of bullet.

Then she was packing the wound with antibiotic ointment and wrapping it tightly, while Duo used a damp cloth to wipe the sweat off my forehead, and Wufei fetched a cup of cool water, so I could wash down a couple of pain pills as well as slake my suddenly-acute thirst.

"Takes a lot outta ya, doesn't it?" Duo asked gently, mopping my face with the towel and gazing lovingly at me with those warm indigo eyes. "I know my stitches were nowhere near as awful—."

"Don't belittle what you went through," I managed, feeling an easing of pain already, and the beginnings of exhaustion setting in. "Your injury was just as bad. We were just able to tend it a bit quicker."

He smiled wryly. "Tough guy."

"You know it." I mustered up what must have been a weak smile, hoping to allay his concern. "Now what was that you said about soup?"

"Comin' right up!"

As embarrassing as it is to admit, Duo had to spoon feed me that damned soup, as my limbs seemed suddenly too heavy to lift. But with the patience of a saint, he poured in one mouthful at a time until he'd emptied the bowl he brought.

"Good boy," he said teasingly, leaning to kiss me and then lick the taste of chicken soup off my lips. "Mmm—yummy, too."

"Need sleep," I admitted ruefully, finding I was too worn out to even get aroused by his sensual eating habits.

"Wow—guess you do," he admitted, sitting back and removing the hand that had slipped unnoticed down to my groin.

"Dun w'rry," I mumbled, my eyelids drooping. "M'lest you later…"

"Promises, promises," he chuckled, dropping one final kiss on my forehead before getting up and heading back to the kitchenette.

I was asleep before the feeling of his lips on my forehead faded away.

* * *

When the bright sunlight streaming through the window hit my face the next morning, I finally returned to the Land of the Living. I mean _really _returned.

I woke up clear-headed, if a bit stiff and sore, to find Duo curled up in bed beside me—but conspicuously not draped over me.

He looked—haggard. In the harsh morning light, it was easy to see the dark circles under his eyes, and the tight lines around his mouth, and I felt a pang of guilt for making him worry so much.

When I gently kissed his cheek, the indigo eyes fluttered open, and then crinkled at the corners as Duo smiled widely. "Feelin' better?"

"Much," I assured him.

He snuggled closer, sliding a careful arm across my stomach, and tucking his head against my uninjured shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me yesterday, y'know. You were so—out of it."

"I'm right back 'in it,'" I promised. "A little rest and food was all I needed, once Catherine got the bullet out."

He nodded, leaning up to kiss my jaw and the corner of my mouth. "Don't rush it, though. You need even more rest, before you'll be ready to jump back into action."

"If I could have a hot cup of coffee and an even hotter shower, I think I'd be functional again," I hazarded.

The amused eyes half-closed, giving me a sultry look from under heavy lids. "You won't be able to reach your back—not with that shoulder. Can I help?"

"I insist."

He grinned wickedly, and slid out from under the covers, padding across the room and throwing on his clothes. "I'll go brew up that coffee, and make you something to eat. You're gonna need your strength in that shower."

I smirked back, and then out of habit looked for my partner, to see if he was awake and scowling disapprovingly at my lover's suggestive commentary.

"Where are Chang and Catherine?" I asked, realizing the little bedroom had only the one bed in it.

"They, um, agreed that being mature adults they could share the other bedroom without any—impropriety."

I could tell he was quoting Chang, and found myself smirking. "Chang Wufei shared a room with an unmarried woman?"

"I'm pretty sure he was planning to sleep on the floor," Duo shrugged. "Wanna take bets on whether he really did?"

"Leave him be, Duo," I cautioned. "It's taken weeks to break down his rigid inhibitions. Weeks—and a very capable woman. There's no need to aggravate them again."

He pouted adorably. "I can't even tease them about what _might _have happened?"

"Not a word."

"You're a romantic sap, Yuy. You know that?"

"If I am, it's entirely your fault."

He rolled his eyes, and tossed his braid over his shoulder. "Fine. I'll let 'em be, even if they _do _deserve some teasing for all the dancing around each other they did."

The soft smile on his lips as he headed for the door assured me that he'd never really intended to harass them. Even _he_ had enough of a sense of romance to not want to spoil what Wufei and Catherine had started together.

I hoped it lasted, and that Catherine made my partner feel the way Duo made me feel.

He returned with my cup of coffee before I'd mustered the resolve to sit up. I knew my shoulder was going to be stiff as hell, and that I'd be wobbly on my feet.

I think Duo did as well, for he sat on the edge of the bed and helped me sit up, propping pillows behind me to keep me upright.

"Here's your caffeine fix. Can you manage it on your own while I make breakfast?"

"Sure. And by the time you're done, I can probably stagger out to eat at the table."

"Not until Cathy wakes up and checks you out," he warned. "I'll bring your meal in here, and as soon as she clears you to get out of bed, I'll jump your bones in the shower—er—_help _you to the shower."

"I liked your first idea better," I assured him. "Though it might have to wait until I can stand unassisted."

Mischief entered the deep eyes. "Y'don't _have _to be standing."

Oooh…wasn't _that_ the truth?

* * *

In spite of his bold words, by the time I'd eaten breakfast and procured Catherine's permission to wobble my way to the shower, Duo was too busy fussing over me to even think about sex in the shower.

He worried about the throw rug having a rubber backing on it so I wouldn't slip and fall. He was even more paranoid about an accident in the shower, going so far as to check for those little sticky things that added traction to the bottom of the tub. And although he climbed under the hot water with me, his hands were quick and gentle, rather than teasing and seductive. He washed my hair for me, scrubbed my back, and rinsed me off, almost before the feel of his hands on my skin had gotten me aroused.

Almost.

I caught him as he reached for the spigot. "I'm not done!"

He turned to give me a puzzled look, and then his gaze slid down my body, coming to rest on my groin, and the slight 'problem' he'd caused just by his naked presence.

"Seriously?" he asked, looking searchingly at me.

"Hey, if I'm strong enough to get an erection—I think I'll survive putting it to good use." I tugged him up against me, reveling in the feel of slippery skin against my body, and started kissing everything I could reach.

He melted into my arms, groaning and returning my ardor. And if it hadn't been for my recent ordeal catching up with me, we'd have had some of the hottest, steamiest shower sex ever.

But when I spun to push him up against the tiled wall, a bit of vertigo made me pause and catch myself, and in the next instant he was shutting off the water and grabbing a thick towel to wrap around me.

"You are _not _strong enough for this yet!" he said accusingly, bundling me into the towel and leading me out of the shower.

"I _am_," I insisted. "Just—maybe we should take it to the bed."

He gave a chiding snort, toweling me off with ruthless efficiency and then ushering me back to bed and stuffing me under the covers.

By the time he'd removed the soggy bandage from my shoulder and wrapped a clean, dry one in its place, I'd just about given up on the notion of having sex right then.

But he leaned over and kissed me deeply and thoroughly, promptly reawakening my erection. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Gotta wring out the braid or it'll soak us both."

He slipped back into the bathroom, and I settled against the pillows, feeling wonderfully clean and comfortable. "It's okay," I called to him. "You don't have to—."

He came back out, still naked, and stalked slowly across the room. "Don't have to _what_?"

My throat went a little dry at the sultry look he gave me, and I swallowed a groan. "God, you're gorgeous—." It never ceased to amaze me how much he turned me on.

He sank to his knees on the edge of the bed, and drew back the covers. "Just sit back and relax, lover. I'll take good care of you."

Any reply I might've made was lost in the groan that I couldn't stifle when he ran his tongue along the tip of my erection. And before I could argue that he was being one-sided about this, he deep-throated me and as usual, all coherent thought fled my mind.

I just lay back and lost myself to the incredible sensations of his throat around my cock, and his soft chestnut bangs brushing along my thigh…not to mention the gentle hand that massaged my balls and teased at my entrance.

As I felt my excitement rising to the point of no return, I tried to pull back. "Duo—God, if you keep that up—."

I caught a quick glimpse of mischievous indigo eyes, and then he groaned deep in his throat, the vibrations causing a tidal wave of sensation that had me exploding into his mouth before I could even summon the breath to warn him.

But he swallowed obligingly, the soft constriction of his throat just adding to the euphoric feeling. And then he rose up on hands and knees, straddling me and crawling up towards my chest with an adorably smug look on his face.

"Was it good for you?" he asked slyly.

"Good?" I echoed in a hoarse whisper. "Try spectacular."

"Knee-melting?"

Knee-melting indeed! Duo's skill at blow jobs was nothing short of phenomenal.

"Not just knees—I think you melted every inch of my body."

"Aw, you're just sayin' that," he chided.

"You know by now I don't give empty compliments," I reminded him, running a hand over his cheek and smiling at the way he leaned into the touch. "Now—how 'bout I return the favor? So long as you don't expect me to be half as talented as you are."

He shook his head, brushing the still-damp hair from my forehead. "You just rest, love." His voice was warm and soothing—almost hypnotic.

"But what about you—?"

He gave a smile and a shake of his head. "Lover—making you feel good is as satisfying as any sex could ever be. I can wait until you're back to a hundred percent. Right now, it'd really make me happy if you just lie back, rest and sleep."

I'd have argued—pointing out that tasting his skin would be as pleasurable for me as it was for him—but when I opened my mouth, I yawned loudly, unable to hide my fatigue.

He tucked me back in, curling up against me and wrapping an arm around my waist, and before I could protest that we needed to start planning our return to civilization and how we'd avoid the resistance we were sure to face, I was drifting off to sleep—lulled by the warmth of his embrace and the soft whisper of his breath against my neck.

* * *

The next time I woke up, I was alone, though from the lingering warmth of the sheets next to me, Duo hadn't been gone long.

And sure enough, he slipped in the door a moment later, clad in those alluringly clinging faded jeans and a loose tee shirt, and carrying a tray. He padded over to set it on the night stand.

"Lunch?" I guessed.

"Yep. More soup. And a sandwich this time. Cathy wants you back on solids."

I sat up a bit, and he helped prop me on the pillows, before setting a folded towel in my lap and placing the tray on it. "Thanks." I stirred my soup restlessly before taking a spoonful, and then watched Duo settle into a chair. "We need to discuss how we're going to get you into the courthouse," I told him firmly.

He nodded. "I know, Yuy. Chang's been working on it since the amusement park."

"Did he come up with anything?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

I heard a snort from the doorway, and looked up to see Chang leaning in it, with Catherine just behind him. "Afraid to tell him, Maxwell?"

Duo shot him a glare. "I am not!" he said hotly. "But since _you _guys dreamed it up, I think you oughta be the ones to sell him on it."

"Sell me—?" I asked, not liking that phrase. "How risky is it?"

My partner gave a brief smile. "No riskier than anything else we've done."

"'Anything else' has nearly gotten us killed a few times," I said dryly. "But run it past me, and I'll judge whether it's an acceptable risk."

"I see you're all business again," he noted. "Good. I take it you're feeling better?"

"I'm fine," I said with a scowl, noticing Duo still looked displeased with whatever the subject matter was that no one had told me yet. "Let's just get on with the planning."

"First I need to check that shoulder!" Catherine pushed past Wufei and took Duo's place at my side, checking the bandage and feeling around it for tenderness or signs of infection.

She smiled and nodded, apparently pleased with my recuperative abilities. "You're very lucky," she pointed out. "Despite all the soft tissue damage and bleeding, it managed to miss the most vital arteries and ligaments. You should be back to normal in a couple of weeks."

I nodded, carefully putting my tray aside and fixing an expectant look on my partner. "Now—how about an update, Chang? What happened while I was out, and what's the master plan for getting Duo to the courthouse?"

He pulled up a chair and settled in next to Catherine, so close that their shoulders were brushing. "Very well. I made the decision to call Barton and have him bring us a replacement vehicle, which he did. He disposed of the SUV, which undoubtedly had a GPS unit—and then he had Winner pick him up. They've both returned to Winner's estate for safekeeping."

"Excellent." I turned my gaze to Catherine. "Obviously you were drafted for medical duty again. Thanks for patching me up."

She blushed and ducked her head a bit. "You're welcome," she said warmly. "I'm just glad I could help."

"You did more than help," I pointed out. "I seem to recall a last gunman at the amusement park that might have finished off my partner without your quick thinking and skill. Thank you for that, too."

I hadn't realized how very much that woman could blush, but she was nearly beet red by that time. So I let her off the hook.

"Now that I'm functional again, we need to move ahead. With an untraceable car, we should have no trouble getting back to the city and arriving at the courthouse—but it's pretty obvious that the minute we show up there, someone will make another try at silencing Duo."

"No shit," muttered my lover, sounding a bit disgruntled.

"So—," I continued. "We'll need a plan—a way to slip into the courthouse without anyone knowing you're there."

"Actually, um, Trowa had a pretty good idea," Catherine said hesitantly.

Duo shot her a scathing look. "No, Cath—it was a suck-ass idea!"

"But one with a reasonable chance of success," Wufei noted.

"All right—out with it!" I ordered. "What's the plan?"

Duo scowled, crossing his arms and looking petulantly down at the floor.

"Catherine?"

"Well, there was this one time Duo dressed up in ladies' clothing—."

"That was 'cause I lost a bet!" Duo snapped. "Don't make it sound like I _liked _it!"

"You made a bet that involved wearing a _dress_?" I asked in disbelief.

Duo nodded, turning his face away.

"And you lost," I concluded.

He made a disgusted face and nodded again. "Tro' made me wear an evening gown and feathered boa, and do a striptease to 'Dude Looks Like a Lady.'"

"He said they went wild at The Jungle," Catherine put in helpfully. "First they booed what they thought was a gorgeous female on stage in a gay bar—and then when they saw the braid and realized it was their own Shinigami, they about brought the house down."

"It was mortifying!" Duo blurted.

I blinked in surprise. Somehow I'd thought that with his lack of inhibitions, Duo wouldn't be put off by a little cross-dressing. But then, as obviously masculine as he acted, maybe being what most would call "pretty" made him a bit defensive.

"I'll bet you were hot," I said soothingly.

He turned on me with narrowed eyes. "Hot? In a _dress_? Yuy—hot is leather an' ropes an' tiger stripes—_not_ sequins, lace and feathers!"

"Depends on who's wearing them," I shrugged.

"Oh, you did _not _just say that!" he growled. "I'm not wearin' shit like that for you or anyone, Yuy—y'got that?"

"No one's asking you to wear such a frivolous outfit," Chang cut in reasonably. "But if Catherine curls and styles your hair, and you wear a nice, mid-length skirt and blouse, you could pass for female long enough to enter the courthouse unnoticed through the main gate."

I looked at my partner in surprise. "_That's _Barton's plan?"

"It was a group effort," he admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable.

I guessed the idea of cross-dressing hadn't come easy to him, either.

"There will be spectators at the trial," he continued, outlining the basic premise of their strategy. "The papers said that video feeds will be available in rooms for public viewing, since there are no reporters allowed in the courtroom. It's expected that quite a crowd will turn out for parts of the trial, especially the first day or two of testimony. We figured that Catherine and Duo could pose as curious citizens, going in through the public entrance, while you and I show up at the security gate and tell Captain Po that Maxwell chickened out and gave us the slip."

I felt my eyes widen with surprise. It was actually a pretty good plan. Considering the near-misses, it was totally plausible that Duo might decide not to risk testifying. And it was even more plausible that he'd ditch his police escort and run for the hills.

"So—we check in with the Captain, and then what—?"

"Meet Maxwell and Catherine at a pre-designated location, with a change of clothes, and then walk him right into the courtroom as Duo Maxwell—star witness."

"Wow." I was genuinely impressed. "Maybe I should get shot more often. You really rise to an occasion, don't you?"

My partner smiled and gave a modest shrug. "As I said—a group effort. Barton thought up the change of clothing, Catherine decided her presence would help solidify the disguise, and Maxwell dreamed up the story that he'd run off."

I eyed my lover suspiciously. "Could that be because it crossed your mind?"

"Many times," he answered honestly. "Back at the beginning. And maybe once more when you got shot, and I started thinking it's not worth you two dying just to protect me."

I caught his hand and brought it to my lips. "You are worth any risk, Duo. Whether you testify or not, your life has value, to you and to others. Don't ever forget that."

He blushed and ducked his head. "I know, 'Ro. But I'm gonna testify. How else can I make up for all you've gone through—both of you? And _you_, Cathy. After all that, I damned well have to show Khushrenada that he can't fuck with my friends and my life and expect to get away with it."

I pulled him into my arms, smiling proudly. "You're even willing to wear a dress to get the job done?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," he sighed.

He turned a slightly mournful look on Catherine. "Just—no heels, okay? I can't stand wearin' spiked heels!"

She laughed merrily, leaning back against Wufei in a very comfortable way. "No heels," she promised. "We'll buy you a nice pair of pumps instead."


	53. Euphoria

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Three: Euphoria

We talked a bit more about the plan to infiltrate the courthouse over dinner—mostly explaining to Duo and Catherine that they'd have to pass a security checkpoint, including a metal detector and probably a quick physical search. If we were going to disguise Duo, it would have to be good enough to fool someone making a cursory check for weapons.

"If you're tellin' me I've gotta wear 'falsies,'" Duo muttered unhappily. "I kinda figured that out already."

"I'm just saying they'll have to feel reasonably 'real.' Stuffing a bra with tissue won't cut it."

"A bra—?"

Catherine patted Duo's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll help you pick out something comfortable."

"That's not the point," he protested. "It's the thought of wearing it at all!"

"Didn't you wear one for your stage act?" I teased, leaning back in my chair and breathing a sigh as the twinge from my shoulder was very minor.

"No—as a matter of fact, I just wore the gown—and ended up out of it, anyway."

"You won't be dressed as a cheap floozy this time," Wufei told him. "You'll have to look like a typical woman off the street—or maybe a secretary or something."

Catherine looked at Duo and chuckled. "We _have _got our work cut out for us."

He made a sour face and said nothing more on the subject.

But as we climbed into bed for the night, I couldn't help asking him again if he was still determined to testify.

"'Course I am," he muttered defiantly. "Told ya. Khushrenada has to pay for what he did to Zechs and then to us." His gaze dropped to my bandaged shoulder. "Hell—if the worst he'd done was have someone shoot you, I'd _still _wanna see him fry for it."

"Love you, too," I sighed, snuggling in next to him and tugging his warm body close.

* * *

First thing the next morning, after a breakfast for which I finally made it to the table, we headed into town to shop for Duo's outfit. Duo and I took the back seat, so I could stretch out and relax a bit, and Wufei drove, with Catherine riding shotgun—in the figurative sense only.

We'd decided over breakfast that we'd be far safer shopping where we were than waiting until we got back to the city. Out here there were not only fewer eyes to potentially recognize Duo, but there was less media exposure about the upcoming trial.

There were also, according to Catherine, some very nice boutiques that carried a variety of women's wear, as well as one or two consignment shops. She'd gone with Wufei to the small grocery store in town on the first day there, and had checked the place out with Trowa's idea in mind. I was once again impressed with what a level-headed woman she'd turned out to be.

It made me glad Relena had turned him down all those months ago. Where Catherine was resourceful and determined, Relena had always been unsure of herself and her place in the department. I thought part of it had to do with being the Chief's daughter, and never having had the chance to prove herself.

But I knew that in Catherine's place, she'd never have had the quick wits or skills needed to survive, let alone triumph.

"Care to share?" Duo asked quietly from his seat beside me.

"Hm?" I asked absently.

"You look—distracted," he pointed out, frowning slightly.

A flicker of his eyes towards the back of Catherine's head made me realize he'd noticed I was staring rather fixedly at her auburn curls.

I snorted and shook my head, reaching for his hand. "And you look—jealous."

His glance slid to the floor and then he peered shyly up through his bangs. "Sorry you didn't pick the feisty girl instead of the brassy guy?" he whispered.

"Never," I asserted. "You are the only one for me." I lifted his chin with one finger and leaned in to brush a kiss across his lips, my own reply every bit as quiet. "Just because I admire the woman my partner is involved with doesn't mean I have any sort of romantic designs on her."

"But you were looking at her so—intently."

"I was comparing her to the last girl Wufei showed interest in, and thinking how much better suited they are for each other."

He looked relieved, and perhaps a bit embarrassed at having been caught in a jealous moment. "They really are great together."

"Like us," I pointed out.

He smiled in response. "You always know what I need to hear, don't you?"

"Well—_now _I do. Not at first," I reminded him.

His nose wrinkled adorably. "That's true. You were pretty harsh back at the start, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"But I wasn't any better."

"No."

He got quiet again, sliding a bit closer and leaning comfortably against me. "Glad we got past that."

"Me too."

We pulled into the parking lot of a mini-mall, which contained a grocer, a hair salon, and a hardware store.

"Euphoria Hardware?" I muttered, puzzled over the odd name.

"Well what else would they call it, considering that's the name of the town," Duo shrugged, tucking his braid down the back of his shirt, before sliding out of the car and stretching languidly. "Isn't it adorable?" He took a baseball cap out of his hip pocket and stuffed it on his head, pulling the brim down over his noteworthy indigo eyes.

I looked around, realizing that across the street was Euphoria Auto Repairs, and just down the block Euphoria Day Spa. "Huh. Interesting name," I conceded.

Wufei looked over the top of the car at me, smirking. "I didn't believe it at first, either. Who'd have thought a fishing village would garner such a flattering name?"

"Oh, but it's not _just _a fishing village," Catherine explained, gesturing around at the quaint shops and nearby pier. "During the summer months they get quite a few tourists. That's why there are cottages for rent. They have whale-watching boat trips and deep sea fishing charters, as well as harbor tours, and even open air concerts on the green."

"That explains the boutiques and gourmet coffee shop, eh?" Wufei guessed, nodding towards the Starbucks just a block away.

Duo gave a wry chuckle. "Pretty upscale for a hick town."

"It's sort of a hidden treasure," Catherine explained. "I'd heard of it before, from the locals back at the farm. But I was always busy with circus work, or at the vet clinic, and never got down to see it for myself."

"It's quite lovely," Wufei commented, his gaze traveling from the sailboats bobbing at the wharf, back to Catherine. "Perhaps we could come visit when we have more time."

She grinned at him and nodded. "I'd love to. I hear the local chocolatier is famous for his chocolate-covered blueberries."

He held out an arm, and she looped her hand through it as the four of us began walking down the sidewalk towards the first clothing shop on the block.

Duo stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled along beside me, giving a sidelong glance and a rueful smile. "Don't suppose we can walk like _that_," he mused.

"Ah, no. But I'd like to."

Once again I seemed to find the right words, and he smiled and relaxed, staying just close enough for me to feel his presence, but not so close that anyone might be scandalized by the sight of a gay couple.

The first shop we entered was filled with spring and summer clothing in a variety of pastel shades that made Duo blanch and pause at the door.

"I, uh, don't think we'll find what we're looking for in here," he said a bit hoarsely.

Catherine cast a discerning eye around, and lit upon a rack of shirts. "Sure we will," she said firmly. "There are some very nice blouses."

"B-blouses?" he echoed, glancing at me for help.

"Shirts," I translated, nodding towards the long-sleeved garments.

He swallowed hard, and followed Catherine over to the rack while Wufei and I hung back by the door, as dutiful boyfriends should.

My partner was smirking evilly, and I elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't revel in his mortification so much. It's very unbecoming."

"Screw that," he chuckled unrepentantly. "After the show he put on in the hot tub—I'm entitled."

I found myself grinning irrepressibly. "On second thought—."

Duo either had preternatural hearing, or he knew us both very well, because he looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes menacingly, as Catherine held up a pale, chiffon blouse to see if the sleeves were long enough for him.

Wufei stifled a snort, and hastily turned his face away so Duo wouldn't see how amused he was. Meanwhile, I forced a bland expression onto my face, and gazed impassively back at my irritated lover.

Honestly, it was kind of fun watching him squirm. And I promised myself later I'd make him squirm in a much, much better way—preferably underneath me. That might take his mind off the embarrassing plan to smuggle him into the courthouse. And for damn sure, it'd take _my _mind off it.

"How's the shoulder?" Wufei asked quietly, having regained control of his mirth.

"Predictably stiff and sore—but I feel much stronger than I did yesterday." I gave him a level stare. "I'll be ready for anything when we reach the city."

He nodded curtly in return. "Good. We'll both need to be at our best."

"I will," I assured him. "In fact, I'm sort of eager to see the expression on Khushrenada's face when we walk Duo into that courtroom."

A feral smile spread across his face. "Me, too."

Catherine had apparently discarded the idea of chiffon—or Duo had forcibly wrested it from her mind—because the two of them headed our way empty-handed.

"Let's try one of the consignment shops," suggested the perky girl. "Duo's a bit keen on darker colors, which would be out of season in most of the dress shops."

"Hey—it'll hide the 'falsies' better," he pointed out in an undertone. "That other material is too—see-through."

"Sheer," Wufei corrected him graciously. "The word is 'sheer.'"

Duo gave him a fishy look as we went back outside. "Sometimes, Chang, you send out some seriously mixed signals."

"How so?"

"Any guy who'd use a word like 'sheer,' just comes across as totally gay, y'know."

"Not true!" protested my partner, glaring. "It's the proper term for a lightweight fabric."

Duo rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "See what I'm talking about? The word 'fabric' sounds kinda queer, too."

"No it does not!"

I coughed quietly into my hand. "Yeah—it kinda does," I admitted.

"Yuy!"

I gave a covert wink to my lover, beginning to see why he enjoyed baiting Chang so very much, and then turned an innocently blank look to my partner. "What?" I eyed him up and down. "You don't hear _me _using words like 'sheer' and 'fabric,'" I pointed out.

"And you're gay—which would suggest those are _not _words commonly used in a homosexual man's vocabulary."

"It's not the words, exactly, 'Fei," Duo continued, his face alight with mirth as we made our way down the sidewalk. "It's the fact that you know something about material." His glance slid suggestively down my partner's body. "You probably wear silk boxers, don't you?"

Wufei colored splendidly, doing a lovely fish imitation. "So what if I do?"

Duo laughed out loud, thoroughly enjoying his revenge.

"Just because I like the way a particular fabric _feels_—." Wufei cut himself off abruptly, realizing he was only getting in deeper by the minute.

Meanwhile, my lover groaned suggestively. "Don't talk like that 'Fei—you'll get me thinking about silk an' leather an' God knows what else."

Shit—now he had _me _interested in the conversation.

"This ends now!" declared my partner, speeding up his pace and looking anywhere but at the smirking woman on his arm.

She darted a teasing glance over her shoulder at Duo, raising an eyebrow and mouthing the word "silk" with a rather hungry look.

Yes, she was perfect for Wufei—I was quite certain of it now.

We reached the consignment shop without further sniping on anyone's part, and once again Wufei and I distanced ourselves from the shopping experience, while Duo and Catherine put on a performance for the store clerk that had me scratching my nose to cover all my smirks and near-laughter.

Obviously, they couldn't tell the helpful sales assistant that they were buying for Duo. So instead, Catherine would choose something off the rack and hold it up in front of herself, twirling to show it off to Duo.

He'd promptly shake his head, pointing out whatever he didn't like about the selection, and she'd try holding it up to him and convincing him of its merits, while surreptitiously seeing if the length and fit was right.

They looked very much like siblings, or at least cousins—and the snatches of conversation I overheard had Catherine waxing poetic about a new guy she'd met, and a special date, while Duo argued that the fellow just wasn't worth the effort.

The clerk bought it hook, line and sinker, and kept pulling things from various locations, trying to help put together an outfit for the fictitious date.

Every now and then Duo would cast a helpless look my way, and I'd give a thumbs up or down on whatever selection Catherine was waving about at the time.

It was kind of charming the way he wanted me to approve his choice of clothing—even if it _was _women's clothing.

"You look like you're enjoying this," Wufei commented at one point, as I was watching Catherine drape a loosely knit shawl around Duo's shoulders.

"So were you, when Duo was still squirming about it," I pointed out.

He smiled reluctantly. "Yes, I was." His dark glance traveled to the pair again, as Duo tried to shrug off the delicate fabric. "Give him a thumbs up on that," added my partner.

"Huh?"

"The color matches his eyes."

My jaw went slack for a moment, even while I was automatically giving Duo the affirmative gesture.

"Y-you've _looked _at his eye color?"

"It's hard to miss," came the calm response. "That shade of indigo is—very compelling."

"C-compelling?" I stammered. "Look, Chang—I don't know why you'd notice a thing like the color of Duo's eyes, but keep your opinions to yourself, why don't you? And while you're at it—."

I stopped in mid-rant, seeing the glimmer of mirth in Chang's dark eyes, and realized I'd been baited as neatly and effectively as _he _usually was.

"Smooth, Chang. Very smooth."

"Payback's a bitch, Yuy. You of all people should know that by now."

I nodded, letting him have his moment, and watched as Duo gave the clerk the shawl to ring up.

* * *

It took a total of three dress boutiques, two consignment shops, and a trip to the hardware store before we had all the items needed for Duo's disguise.

Don't ask.

After we'd finally accomplished our mission for the day, we decided to treat ourselves to dinner out at a quaint restaurant on the wharf.

The Gull's Wing was a rustic looking building, with both inside dining, and a deck that hung over the water—dotted with round umbrella tables and matching chairs. When Duo suggested eating outside, I pointed out the numerous seagulls swooping down to beg handouts, and insisted we'd dine inside.

"Party pooper," he mumbled as he pulled the door open and stalked inside.

"Better that than risking a different kind of 'poop,'" I noted. "I doubt the gulls are very discriminating about where they let fly."

"Oh. Good point."

He stopped in the foyer, looking at a "help wanted" sign. "Hey—they're lookin' for a cook. Maybe I should apply."

"And maybe we should eat elsewhere," Wufei said with a frown, pausing as he pulled open the interior door. "If they're between cooks, I wonder who's running the kitchen."

The girl just inside the door heard him and waved us in eagerly. "Don't mind the sign! My grandpa is still the cook, until we find someone to replace him. He's been cooking here for fifty years, an' no one's died yet."

"Fifty years? No wonder he wants time off," Duo said with a grin.

The young brunette smiled widely at him, gathering up a handful of menus as she approached us. "What he wants is a permanent vacation," she elaborated. "He wants to become a beach bum, and go surf fishing, and hang out on the pier with the retired sailors and tell stories all day."

She led us between tables to a comfortable booth by a bay window overlooking the harbor. "Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?"

Duo had snagged a seat closest to the window, and was watching the gulls swoop around the deck with genuine fascination.

"D—Max?" I prompted, recalling the alias we'd used before.

"Oh." He dragged his attention away from the birds, and fixed it on the menu. "Wow. Where d'you get such a selection of beer?"

"My grandfather knows people," she said with a shrug. "He's always liked the exotic stuff, himself—so he stocks it for the customers."

A voice carried from the back of the building, sounding plenty hearty for a man she called "grandpa."

"Mary! Get yer butt back here, girl! The timer for your dinner rolls is goin' off!"

She smiled apologetically and darted into the back room.

Catherine looked around at the cozy little restaurant, pointing out the fishnet and shells used to decorate the walls. "This place is adorable."

"So long as the food is palatable, I'll count us lucky," Wufei replied, still apparently unconvinced.

Mary came trotting back out of the kitchen, looking a bit flushed and harried. "Sorry for the interruption. You folks ready to order?"

"Well, I for one need something to drink," Duo asserted, pointing to one of the beer selections. "That'll be good for starters."

Catherine and Wufei chose iced tea, while I ended up deciding to try Duo's beloved dark imported beer, just to see what the fuss was about. And by the time our young waitress returned with our drinks, we were ready to order meals—so we put in our requests and settled back to enjoy the pleasant ambiance of the place.

While it wasn't a fancy restaurant by any means, it was a little too nice to be called a mere diner. But by the same token, there appeared to be a handful of locals sitting up at the counter, mainly clad in work clothes or other casual attire, which kept it from looking formal or elegant. It just felt like a homey cross between a country kitchen and a fine dining establishment—with simple meals alongside fancier fare. I guessed it was sort of "all things" to "all people" in town.

And although the flow of incoming and outgoing customers was sporadic, it seemed every one of them greeted Mary by name and called out a "hello" to her grandfather back in the kitchen.

We didn't dare discuss our plans in such a public place—especially where we were obvious strangers; so we just chatted about the scenery and the weather until our meals showed up—in fairly good time.

"Wow—this looks really delicious!" Duo commented, leaning in to sniff at his pasta dish. "Smells even better."

"It does," Wufei agreed, sounding more surprised by that fact than Duo had.

Mary smiled at both of them as she deposited Catherine's and my meal in front of each of us. "Grandpa's gotten a lot of compliments over the years."

Borrowing a page from Duo's book, I smiled politely at the young lady. "Didn't I hear him mention that you made the rolls?" I gestured to the steaming basket of golden dinner rolls. "The talent must be hereditary."

She grimaced slightly. "Not really. About all I can make is rolls—and sometimes brownies." She pushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear. "Pops tried to teach me his recipes—but I managed to screw up just about every single one."

"Maybe you just need more practice," Duo suggested, twirling his fork in his pasta and taking a bite—then closing his eyes and moaning in pleasure. "Aw, this stuff is awesome!"

"Only because Pops made it," she insisted. "Honestly, I tried. For like, three years I tried. I just haven't got the touch."

"Max is a very good cook," Wufei told her, nodding in Duo's direction.

"But not a professional," Duo replied nonchalantly, his attention split between the meal he was enjoying and his view of the sparkling ocean from the window seat. Then he glanced mischievously at my partner. "At least not _that _kind of professional."

I couldn't help smirking at the color that rose in Chang's face, but I elbowed Duo gently to caution him to back off and not start a scene.

"Well you all enjoy your meals and I'll be back to check on you in a bit," Mary said, her gaze flitting from Duo to me before she headed off to the kitchen.

I didn't care for the hint of intelligence in her big brown eyes that made me think she knew more than she indicated. Had she recognized one of us from a news or tabloid story?

"If you're gonna start doubting everyone you meet—," Duo commented, catching the look I kept on the girl as she left.

"Right now I have to," I said curtly. "She may seem like an innocent young kid—but it would take only a single phone call to put us right back to square one." I absently picked up a dinner roll and took a bite, immediately spitting it back onto my plate. "Yuck!"

"What's wrong?" Wufei asked with a frown.

"These are awful! Too much salt or something."

Duo picked one up and tentatively nibbled at it, making a face and plunking it back into the basket. "Tastes like someone used a tablespoon, instead of a teaspoon. Blech." He took a long swig of his beer to wash away the unpleasant flavor, and then smirked at me. "She's gotta be on the level, Yuy. She didn't lie about her cooking skills—or lack thereof."

"That doesn't mean she couldn't be looking to get rich quick by squealing to Khushrenada or the FBI about us."

He shook his head. "I don't think she's the type. Folks out here have no use for the Feds. Kinda like me."

"Either way, she has no idea where we're staying, and we'll be gone by tomorrow," Wufei said evenly. "Let's just enjoy our meal and stay alert, shall we?"

I thought maybe he was trying to make things less stressful for Catherine by not dwelling on all that might go wrong, so I let it slide for the moment.

Somewhere between dinner and dessert, Duo decided to pay a visit to the kitchen and see "Pops" for himself; apparently he had a question about some ingredient in the marinara sauce, and his culinary curiosity wouldn't be satisfied until he knew what it was.

I insisted on tagging along, not willing to let him out of my sight in a strange place, and found myself watching with a bit of bemused wonder as he charmed the socks off yet another stranger.

Pops looked every bit of his eighty years. A short, ruggedly-built man, he seemed as weathered as the rocks lining the coast—with wrinkles at the corners of sea-green eyes, and a wispy beard framing his jaw.

He looked over the pass-through from the kitchen when Mary told him a customer had a question, and his gaze swept Duo appraisingly. "Somethin' wrong with yer meal young feller?"

"No—not at all," Duo assured him with a smile. He held out his hand, and the grizzled cook wiped one on his apron and took it. "I'm Max. And I just wanted to ask how you get your marinara sauce so tangy."

I rolled my eyes, thinking that cooks were a strange breed. Honestly. Who worries about _how _something ended up tasting good?

Well, except for Wufei—who'd mostly been shocked that it had been _Duo _who'd known how to make a perfectly flavored meal.

Personally, I just wanted to consume my food and get on to other things. Not that I couldn't enjoy fine cooking—but I wasn't fascinated by it.

Duo and Pops were chatting like old friends by that time—spouting words like "cilantro" and "pesto"—almost a secret language of chefs.

Mary suddenly appeared at my elbow, and smiled up at me with a conspiratorial look. "Maybe you wanna pull up a chair," she teased. "Sounds like they could be at it all day."

"I'm sure they could. But we've got other things to do, so I'll have to drag Max away shortly."

She eyed me up and down, a slight wrinkle on her forehead. "You an' Max a couple?" she asked bluntly.

I blinked in surprise, quite sure we hadn't been obvious.

"It's the way you look at him," she whispered, giving me a wink. "It was clear the minute you walked in the door that he wasn't—available. And then you followed him over here, like you maybe have a little possessive streak about him."

"Um—sorry?"

She laughed at my tentative apology. "Don't be. He's cute as Hell, and you're a lucky guy—but then, so's he."

Her teasing gaze made me blush hotly. "Uh—thank you."

"Aw, don't mention it. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to be so secretive about it. Pops don't care—and even in a backwater town like this, we've got our share of same-sex couples."

I was still so floored by her perceptiveness that I couldn't carry my end of the conversation, so I tugged at Duo's sleeve hopefully. "You almost done, Max? We should get going soon."

He grinned and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can tear myself away now that Pops spilled his deep, dark cooking secrets."

Pops grinned in return, a fond sparkle in his aging eyes. "I wouldn't tell just anyone about the lemon juice," he said firmly. "But you know what you're talkin' about; so it's a professional courtesy." He reached out for another handshake. "Stop by any time you want to share recipes, kid."

"Sure," Duo replied nonchalantly, knowing full well we were leaving the next day. "And you keep up the good work." My lover turned and without thinking slipped an arm through mine, heading us back to the table.

I hesitated, looking down at our linked arms, and his eyes widened and he started to release his hold—only I put a hand over his and kept it there as we made our way back to Catherine and Wufei.

No one at the counter seemed to notice—or if they did, they simply didn't care. It was a liberating feeling, thinking that I could touch Duo in public without censure. It felt really, really good.

"Yuy?" he whispered.

"It's okay, Duo. Mary noticed from the moment we walked in, and made it a point to tell me no one would care. It appears she was right."

My lover glanced around and then back at me, eyes lighting up. "Shit—I could get to love this town."

"So could I."

Dessert was a tasty confection I had no doubt Pops had spent hours on—layers of cream between delicate pastry, drizzled with a fresh berry sauce that tasted like fruit right off the vine. He really was a talented cook.

Duo seemed to have gotten his life story, and spent the final moments of our meal expounding on how Pops had traveled with a Merchant Marine vessel and been all over the world when he was younger—learning about cooking and spices from chefs wherever he went. In spite of how skilled he was, he'd never set foot in a culinary school of any kind. His knowledge was all hands-on, rather than learned from a book…a genuine self made man.

We were all pretty impressed by that, and left Mary a very generous tip, before making our way back out to the car.

* * *

The sun was sinking over the hills by that time, and I felt a curious mixture of regret at leaving the pleasant town, and relief that our ordeal was nearing a conclusion.

"Hey, Yuy—you feel strong enough for a little hike?" Duo asked, tugging me away from the door of the car as I'd reached for the handle.

"We walked all over town today," I pointed out.

"I know. It's just, there's a foot path that goes along the cliffs and up to where the cottages are. Wufei and Cathy used it the other day to come in for supplies. I thought maybe you an' I could go back that way, while they take the car."

I hesitated, genuinely tired from our day of shopping. But the pleading in Duo's eyes was unmistakable. He wanted to be alone—maybe for the last time until the trial was over. And while we had a private room in the cottage, we weren't truly alone there with Catherine and Wufei one room over.

"Sure," I said, pushing the fatigue to the back of my mind and forcing a smile.

Wufei looked me over with a slight frown. "Are you certain you're up to it, Yuy? It's an uphill walk."

"I'll be fine," I assured him, though I wasn't sure at all.

Duo seemed to catch on, and started to open his mouth to say it'd be okay if we didn't make the walk. But I cut him off quickly, giving him a teasing look. "If I get tired, I'll just make Duo carry me the rest of the way."

He smiled and relaxed, though his hand reflexively brushed over my bandaged shoulder. "It's a deal," he said warmly. "I'd carry you to the ends of the Earth if I had to."

"Romantic drivel," Wufei snipped with feigned scorn. "Come, woman—let's leave the two lovebirds to their own devices."

"_Woman_?" Catherine asked dangerously, as Wufei opened the door for her. "Chang—you and I need to talk!"

My partner blanched a bit as he rounded the car to the driver's door, and Duo gave a whoop of laughter. "Better start backpedaling right now, 'Fei-kins! You've got some serious ass-kissing to do to get out of the hole you just started digging."

Wufei shot him a scathing look and hopped into the driver's seat, shutting the door forcefully.

Duo caught my arm and pulled me towards a sidewalk along the wharf. "C'mon, lover. I'll show you the scenic route."

It was, indeed, scenic, though more because the setting sun lit Duo's hair with glimmering highlights, than because of any natural wonders.

We made our way along the walkway until we reached a public beach that was relatively deserted that time of day, and then walked along the sand to get to the foot path Duo had mentioned.

But once we were on it, I slipped an arm around his waist, feeling like we were the only two people out there—and even if we stumbled across a stray hiker, it was their tough luck if they were offended by a gay couple.

The path did, indeed, climb rather steeply for a bit, and I found myself feeling a little lightheaded before we were halfway to the top.

"Duo—I need to rest," I admitted reluctantly, stopping at a scenic overlook and sinking onto a boulder that jutted out from the hillside.

He immediately sank to his knees beside me, anxiously putting a hand to my face. "Shit! I'm sorry, 'Ro. I should've known better. You took a fuckin' bullet less than three days ago."

"I'm okay," I insisted. "Just not back up to full strength. I'll be fine after a couple of minutes of rest."

He didn't look convinced, so I pulled him up next to me on the boulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Duo—I'm fine! Stop fussing."

"Sorry. It's just—while you were in and out of it, I was pretty frantic. 'Fei brought me out to the cliffs to settle me down. He made me do some kind of breathing thing, and watch the seagulls and stuff—to give me something else to focus on. I—I wanted to share this with you. So you could see how beautiful it is out here."

"I do see," I assured him, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face and leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I see a guy who shines brighter than the most spectacular of sunsets—a guy I want to spend the rest of my life with." I pulled him into a hug, and put my lips beside his ear. "Marry me."

He stiffened and then pulled back in surprise, searching my face warily. "Yuy—guys can't get married in this state."

"That's irrelevant," I shrugged. "I don't need a legal document to consider us permanent."

He looked adorably uncertain, his face scrunched up in confusion. "You already promised me forever," he pointed out.

"Yes, but I didn't ask you to marry me. I didn't ask for you to forsake all others, and cleave only to me, until death. I want that, Duo. I want to know this is exclusive and permanent and that even when we have our ups and downs and fights along the way, we'll stick with each other and work through them."

His expression softened, and he leaned in for a kiss. "Hell, lover—that's what we've been doing for weeks now—fighting and making up, and sticking together against all the odds. I got no problem promising to keep doing that—with you—and _only _you—for the rest of my life."

I felt my breath catch at the tenderness in his voice. "So—that's a 'yes'?"

"Yes," he smirked, wrapping his arms even tighter around me so that I could feel the pounding of his heart against my chest and the warmth of his breath on my neck. "I love you," he whispered so quietly I barely heard it.

But my heart soared at hearing the words he'd been holding back for so long, and I had to blink hastily to clear my eyes of a little excess moisture. "I love you too."

We stayed there on the little plateau, enjoying the salty breeze and the rhythmic pounding of the waves on the shore below until I felt strong enough to continue the hike. And when we did resume our journey, it was hand in hand, the way we were going to spend the rest of our lives, once we got the trial out of the way and were free.


	54. Journey's End

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Four: Journey's End

We bid a reluctant farewell to Euphoria the next morning, and began the marathon drive back to the city.

This time Chang and I were in the front seat, while Duo and Catherine had the back, and were talking quietly about Duo's disguise and how he was supposed to walk and talk like a woman.

I might have found it amusing, except I was busy getting back into the mindset of a working cop—running scenarios through my head to think up contingency plans and emergency exits.

"—so if there are FBI agents at all the doors, and they decide to detain us, we'll need Barton or Winner to be somewhere handy to meet up with Duo and Catherine—."

"Relax, Yuy," urged Wufei, glancing over briefly before returning his gaze to the highway stretching before us. "Ultimately, we're going to have to play it by ear. There's just no way of knowing what sort of security they'll have."

"But we can estimate—."

"It's guesswork. Nothing more," he interrupted. "Put it from your mind, and make the call to Captain Po."

"Right. The call." I took out the cell phone rather reluctantly. We hadn't been in contact with our boss since I called for the extraction from the amusement park—and we all know how well _that _went. I looked anxiously at my partner. "What if she's in cahoots with the FBI?"

"If she is—she's convinced they're on the up and up. I'm sure she'll be shocked to hear that they tried to kill us."

"Unless she sent them."

"Jesus, Yuy—the woman has an exemplary record! Fifteen years on the Force, and five as Captain. You think she'd sell out to Khushrenada? Throw away a career she's devoted her life to?"

"I'm just not ready to rule anything out," I asserted. "I mean, we judged Duo based on his reputation, and look how wrong we were. We could be just as wrong about Captain Po. They say everyone has a price."

"Well, I hope they're wrong. I'd hate to think that of her. Not just because I respect the woman—but also because if she's been bought—we're seriously screwed."

"Well how else do you think they got wind of the meeting?"

"A leak?" he said almost hopefully. "Just as before. The Captain's office could be bugged—unless you think Winner's messenger was bribed—."

"No. Quatre trusted the man implicitly. And I think all he told him was a place, date and time—not the purpose of the message."

"Just call the Captain and settle this. Find out what went wrong, and then feed her the story that Maxwell took a powder and we're coming in empty-handed."

"Hey, speaking of 'powder,'" Duo piped up, leaning over the seat. "Cathy's making me wear makeup. Fuckin' makeup, Yuy! This better be worth it!"

My partner laughed unexpectedly, and I looked at him in surprise. "What's so funny?"

"He didn't bitch about dodging hitmen and moose as much as he's whining about wearing makeup," Wufei pointed out. "It's just—incongruous."

"In-_what_?" Duo demanded.

"You're blowing it out of proportion. It's only a little makeup."

"And lipstick!" growled my lover.

"Oh—give him nice, pouty lips," Chang told the girl. "Why don't you see how many offers for dates he can collect while you wait in line to get inside?"

Catherine giggled happily, dragging Duo back from the seat and whispering more plans into his ear.

I gave my partner a grateful sideways glance, knowing he was doing his part to keep Duo distracted and relaxed.

"Call Po!"

"Yes, sir!" I shushed our two passengers, and dialed the precinct, ready for almost anything.

"First Precinct—Captain Po," came a voice just tense enough that I knew she'd been waiting for our call.

"Guess who?" I said flippantly, more than a little tired of the leaks and the games and the tension.

"What happened?" she demanded sternly. "I've heard nothing for three days! Where _are_ you? And where are Clark and Mason?"

"Clark and Mason?" I asked, feeling as if I'd been sucker-punched. "That's who you sent for us?"

"Yes! You wanted someone you knew."

"They—never made it," I told her, recalling that Chang and I had talked her out of using those two men for Duo's security detail, citing the fact that one had three kids and the other had just gotten married.

Now, they were both probably dead in a ditch somewhere—wherever the rogue FBI agents had dumped them.

"If they didn't make it, where are they? And where are you, and what's happening?"

"First off, if they were intercepted, it means someone overheard the message we sent giving you the time and place—so you'd better assume your office is bugged."

"What do you mean 'intercepted'?" she asked warily.

"I mean, instead of them arriving at the rendezvous, we ended up with a carload of guys claiming to be from the FBI."

"I'd never send the FBI!" she snapped in outrage. "I _know _how you feel about them. I sent Mason and Clark."

"Then I don't feel so bad about shooting the guys who showed up, and blowing up their car," I replied unrepentantly.

"Shooting—blowing—. How'd you blow up their car?"

"Long story," I sighed. "But let me give you the condensed version. The leader called himself Agent Sims and told us to hand Maxwell over. We balked, and he brought out a hostage—the young lady who'd provided our last safe house. He wanted to trade her for Maxwell—said that Khushrenada had changed his mind and wanted Duo alive for some reason." Come to think of it, I'd never pressed Duo for an explanation. I still didn't know what Zechs might have passed along to him that Treize would want. "We pretended to make the trade, and then Sims told his men to kill us all. Maxwell got him with a switchblade, while Chang shot the man who'd been holding the girl. Meanwhile, she used a smoke bomb for a distraction, while Maxwell did the same and then dropped a real bomb on his way out of the limo."

"He got away?" came the breathless question.

I chuckled, seeing an opportunity for a plausible lie. "Yes. As a matter of fact, he got away from _all _of us."

"He's _missing_?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What have you done to track him down?"

"Nothing." This time the slight irritation in my reply wasn't feigned. "Honestly, Captain, what would you have us do? I was injured during the encounter, and Chang, the girl and I barely got clear. Maxwell's probably on his way to Vegas by now—or nearly there. He was in an SUV he stole from the backup crew that came after Sims' first team went down."

"Then why aren't you on his trail?"

"I said _probably_," I pointed out. "He mentioned hiding out there back at the start of the trip—so I thought maybe he was still considering it. In reality, he could be anywhere."

"Or nowhere!" she blurted. "Jesus, Yuy—I've got the FBI crawling all over the precinct. The trial starts tomorrow. And you're telling me our only witness has disappeared?"

I could see where that looked very bad from her perspective.

"What about forensic evidence?" I asked.

"It won't hold up on its own," she insisted. "We _need _Maxwell!"

"I'll tell you what; have Noventa stall for time, and Chang and I will try looking for Maxwell a bit more. There are a few places he might have gone to ground, and we can at least check some of those out before we come in empty-handed. Okay?"

"Like I have a choice?" My boss sighed deeply, and there was a long, pregnant pause. "Are you certain Mason and Clark were killed?"

"Have you heard from them?"

"No."

"Then they're dead," I said bluntly.

"Couldn't they have been diverted—or even bribed?"

"If they were bribed, they'd have shown up for the rendezvous and then gotten the drop on us. No, Captain. They're dead." I felt a pang of genuine regret for both men's families.

"After all that," Captain Po sighed wearily. "We left them off the protective detail to keep them out of harm's way—and then a simple pickup went bad?"

"There was nothing simple about it—it went bad because someone is listening to conversations that take place in your office, and passing the information along to Khushrenada's people." I frowned, thinking of Relena again. She was the likeliest candidate, except for having no reason to want to help Khushrenada. How _could _he have gotten to her?

"And you think the FBI is among Khushrenada's 'people'?"

"Not all of them—but some. Yes. And until we know which ones, you clearly can't trust them."

"That's rather a moot point, Yuy, unless you and Chang find our runaway witness."

"In his defense, Captain, he stuck with us until the ambush at the park. It would have been enough to break anyone's nerve. I can fully understand why he'd be afraid to put his life in our hands any more."

"But if he doesn't testify, Khushrenada will get away with murder. And you know he won't give up on Maxwell, either. He'll want him silenced permanently—to be sure he can never bear witness against him."

"I know that. And we'll do our best to find Maxwell and convince him of that. But meanwhile, just tell Noventa to buy time."

"I'll tell him. But unless you can produce Maxwell, I fully expect the judge to dismiss the charges." She sighed deeply again. "I suppose that will at least leave an opportunity to file charges again at a later date—if Maxwell turns up alive. But what are the odds of _that _happening?"

"Don't write him off yet," I urged. "He's a resourceful young man, Captain. And he's pretty good at landing on his feet when things go bad. I'm sure he's still alive. We just have to find him and get him to see that his only way out of this mess is to face it head on, and take down Khushrenada."

From the back seat, I saw Duo nod in agreement, a determined look on his face.

"Very well, Yuy," came the weary reply. "Do your best to locate him. I'd tell you not to bother showing up without him—but maybe Noventa can use you or Chang to at least attest to the attempts at witness tampering. Besides, I'm quite certain I don't want to face him alone, if you don't find Maxwell in time."

"I don't blame you," I told her. "We'll try not to let you down."

She gave a wry snort. "I'll try to remember that when I send the team up to collect the bodies and evidence from the amusement park. Or should I say 'clean up your mess'?" Her tone was bitter, but I understood why when I heard the next words out of her mouth.

"I—I guess I'd better send someone out to look for Mason and Clark, while I'm at it," she continued rather absently. "And I should call their wives—." Her voice trailed off, and I thought I heard a slight catch at the end.

"I'm sorry about them, Captain." I didn't have to feign the husky tone of my voice. I'd known both men and genuinely liked and respected them. It sucked that they'd given their lives unnecessarily—that a fucking information leak cost them so dearly.

"So am I," Captain Po replied somberly. "I'm starting to think it's not worth it—two more lives for a single murder conviction—."

"It's worth it," I said fiercely. "It _has _to be." I didn't want Clark and Mason's lives to have been lost in vain.

I did a quick mental tally of all this case had cost—Winner's assistant Rashid, two of his vacation homes as well as his vintage Harley, a bullet graze across my thigh, pulled muscles in my back and then a shot to the shoulder, Duo's blistered feet as well as the graze across his back by the near-miss at the lake house, Wufei being spit on by a llama, treed by a bear, and having bullet holes in his shirt—not to mention sharing a bed with two homosexual guys—the list just went on and on. From Duo's stitched foot to the trauma Catherine had endured by being kidnapped, we'd sacrificed so much that we deserved our reward. We deserved to see Treize Khushrenada brought low by the word of an ex-stripper. _That _would be true justice. And I damned well intended to see it brought about.

"I just hope you find Maxwell in time to testify," Captain Po murmured, sounding genuinely exhausted.

"We'll do our best. Yuy out."

I hung up the phone and glanced over at my partner, whose sober expression told me he understood the whole conversation, even while getting just my side.

From the back seat I heard a heartfelt sigh, and I felt Duo's hand settle on my good shoulder. "I'm sorry about your friends."

"They weren't friends," I told him. "But they were co-workers—good cops—with families."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, sounding inordinately regretful.

"Don't blame yourself. Blame Khushrenada. Blame his crooked FBI agents. And blame whoever has been monitoring my Captain's communications and feeding information to the enemy. Blame them, Duo. But don't you _dare_ try to take the responsibility on yourself."

He smiled crookedly at me, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Still knowin' the right thing to say, huh?"

"It's nothing more than the truth."

We were a subdued group from that point on, taking turns at driving and sleeping, and pausing at empty rest stops along the highway to use the facilities and buy coffee or sodas out of the vending machines.

It caused a strange sense of déjà vu—reminding me of our first road trip—with the same mingled sense of dread and urgency. Yet it was totally different, in that we were now emotionally invested in each other and the outcome of the trial. Even Wufei couldn't claim to be unconcerned about Duo's fate—not that he would at that point. We were a team—about to send our unifying factor into the lion's den.

* * *

When we reached the outskirts of the city, we finally stopped at a hotel, opting for one night of uninterrupted sleep as well as a place for Catherine to work her magic on Duo before we headed to the courthouse.

We made one quick call—to Winner—to make sure he'd be at the courthouse with a suit for Duo to change into once we were inside. Then we settled in for the night.

The room had two queen-sized beds and a futon, which satisfied Chang's sense of propriety. But it also meant there'd be no privacy—no chance for Duo and me to share an intimate moment. We had to content ourselves with being able to sleep in each other's arms one last time—and I reveled in it as he curled up against me and promptly dozed off.

Once he was in the courthouse, in police custody, Duo would be under Noventa's supervision, rather than Chang's and mine. I didn't expect to be alone with him again until the trial was over and I'd tracked him down in relocation.

Oh, it wasn't as bleak as all that. I fully expected that no matter where he was spirited away for safekeeping, he'd contact me to join him. I just wasn't sure if the relocation team would tell him his destination until he got there. So I steeled myself for a period of enforced separation.

It was going to hurt like Hell. After spending every moment together for weeks now, we'd be completely out of contact for an indeterminate period of time.

"You're not sleeping," came a rather weary whisper in my ear, accompanied by a tightening of the arm across my waist.

"I'm—thinking."

"I can tell. Now stop."

"Can't." I rubbed my thumb up and down along his tattooed bicep. "I'm thinking about how much I'll miss this during the trial."

"I'll miss it, too. I'll miss you."

"And _I'll _miss my one chance at a decent night's sleep if you two don't _shut up_!" Wufei growled from his futon.

Duo snickered against my neck, and I found myself smiling into the darkness of the room. "I'll miss your bitching, Chang," I said with amusement. "Really, I will."

He sighed theatrically. "Go to sleep, Yuy." There was a quiet snicker in the dark. "Maxwell needs his beauty rest."

"Hey—!"

I stifled Duo's protest with a deep, lingering kiss, until he sighed happily and snuggled closer. And then I was finally able to relax and let myself fall asleep as well.

* * *

The next morning dawned far too early, and while Chang went after breakfast, I packed the car, and Catherine and Duo worked on his disguise.

They made a bit of a production out of it, locking themselves into the bathroom and making Chang pass the coffee and breakfast sandwiches through a barely-opened door after he'd returned.

"No peeking!" Catherine cautioned, quickly shutting us out again.

I sat on one of the beds, wolfing down my meal and coffee before I had time to get too nervous to stomach food. And then I sat there and began to obsess.

"Are we doing the right thing, Chang?" I blurted finally. "Or should we just buy him a plane ticket to Bermuda and tell him to disappear?" I was only half-joking, feeling the beginnings of panic.

So much could still go wrong.

Someone could recognize Duo even through his disguise. Or the security people at the courthouse could realize he wasn't a woman and detain him for suspicious activity. Or he could suddenly fall ill—or get hit by a bus crossing the street—or—.

Well, you get the idea. My imagination was running away with me, and we hadn't even left the hotel yet.

"We're doing the right thing," Wufei said firmly. "It's the only choice we have. Maxwell will testify. Khushrenada will go down. And you will run off to live happily ever after with the man of your dreams."

"What a pretty picture you paint."

He smiled fleetingly. "I try."

"Speaking of pictures—I wonder what happened to Duo's sketch book." It suddenly occurred to me that he might have mislaid it in our travels, and I felt an unaccountable sense of loss.

"I gave it to Tro' to hang onto when he came to the farmhouse," came a teasing voice from the doorway.

Chang and I both looked up, and gaped in unison.

Duo was fucking _stunning_.

I don't know if it was just because I knew it was him under the makeup and frills—but he just about took my breath away.

Catherine had pulled his hair up on the sides and made cascades of curls that draped flatteringly around his shoulders and face. His wide, too-pretty eyes were highlighted with subtle touches of mascara and eye shadow, giving them a sultry, smoky look, and the hint of rouge sweeping across his cheekbones softened the angles of his face, drawing one's eyes to the full, pouty (yes, pouty) lips accented in an earthy reddish color.

"Holy fucking shit," breathed my partner, clearly awestruck.

Duo wore a simple blue blouse, with a collar just high enough to obscure his Adam's apple, though the indigo shawl around his shoulders would have served the same purpose, draping over the very feminine-looking swells on his chest in such a way that it drew attention away from his throat.

In fact, it led the eye towards the wide belt around that slim waist, and down to the snug black skirt ending just below his knees.

"You fucking shaved your legs!" Chang blurted in amazement.

Sure enough, Duo was wearing stockings—ladies' stockings. And his legs looked damn fine in them—shapely calves leading to slender ankles and feet encased in round-toed pumps with tiny heels.

Shit! She got him to wear heels.

They weren't "spiked" heels—or even very tall ones—but they sure flattered the Hell out of his legs.

I gave a low wolf-whistle, and raised an eyebrow, giving my lover another head to toe look.

He put one hand on his hip, and glared. "You don't even _like _women, Yuy. So stop pretending this turns you on."

"It turns _me _on," Wufei teased, smirking irrepressibly. "Or at least it would if I didn't know you, and I passed you on the street."

"Oh really?" Catherine asked him archly.

For once he didn't get flustered, but gave her a warm, almost conspiratorial look. "Of course, the first thing I notice is a woman's looks, Catherine. But you know me well enough to know that it takes much more than that to truly attract me. It takes intellect, and humor, and strength of spirit—."

She leaned over and kissed him quickly to shut him up. "Nice save," she whispered. "But even _I_ know how gorgeous I made him. You can go ahead and say it."

"You're _hot_, Maxwell," blurted my partner without missing a beat.

"Fuck you, Chang," muttered Duo, shifting restlessly and reaching up to adjust the hair curling around his chin. "Can we get this over with so I can get out of these shoes?"

"Your feet are killing you?" I guessed with a grin.

"No—I want the stockings off. They're riding up in my crotch like there's no tomorrow."

Wufei actually let out a belly laugh at that, leaning back and nearly toppling onto the bed as he let out what was probably a bit of nervous hysteria. We were all strung a little too tight—but the release of humor helped loosen us up enough to proceed with our plan.

* * *

As we drove into the city, towards the courthouse, Catherine coached Duo on putting a slightly higher tone into his voice, and she reminded him to act a bit shy and flustered, which would fit the demure outfit he was wearing and the look she'd created.

At one point she slid forward in the back seat and cast an anxious look at my partner and me. "I didn't make him _too _good-looking, did I?" she asked worriedly. "I mean—the idea is to be inconspicuous, isn't it? I'm not sure I didn't overdo it with the hair—."

"His hair's gorgeous," I said flatly. "And there'd be no hiding it. Putting it up in curls and ringlets like that sort of hides it in plain sight. You can't help that it's a flattering style."

"Is it?" Duo asked, pulling one curl out in front of him to examine it.

"Yes—but I'd rather see it wet from the rain, or loose and blowing in the wind," I told him reassuringly. "Don't feel that you ever have to wear it like this again."

He chuckled, batting his eyes at me. "Aw, admit you love it."

"I love _you_," I said firmly. "The hair is just a bonus." I found my gaze drawn to the silken strands. "A very big bonus."

"Like I said, you've got a little hair fetish." Duo preened in the mirror, fluffing his curls. "Next time I get you alone, I'll show you some _real _fetishes, love."

"Promises, promises."

And then we were pulling up in the parking lot across the street from the courthouse, goggling at the crowd gathered out front and lining up to be admitted. The street directly in front of the building was cordoned off by police vehicles and news vans, and there were camera crews clustered by the steps getting their live footage for the noontime broadcast.

Officers were conducting crowd control, and a SWAT vehicle and one labeled Bomb Squad were conspicuously parked at either end of the block—ready for any threat or emergency.

"Holy shit," Chang breathed in frustration. "It's a three-ring circus."

I was too busy scanning the rooftops for signs of snipers to do more than respond absently to his observation. "Well—there'll definitely be a long wait in line."

Catherine threw her door open. "Then Duo and I better get going."

"Not yet!" I snapped quickly, causing her to pull it shut again.

"What?" Duo asked impatiently, his own tension no less palpable than mine.

"Just—look there!" I pointed up to the roof of the courthouse, where two men in suits were patrolling with rifles. "See that, Chang? Even now they're waiting for him—."

"_Him_ being the operative word," my partner reminded me. "They aren't waiting for two lovely women in a crowd of reporters and gawkers."

"No—but if they spot him—."

"They'll think he's a she, and promptly move on to other things. Trust me, Yuy. This plan is sound. Else I'd never have allowed it to go this far, and neither would you."

I cast a pained and anxious look at my partner, seeing only calm resolve in the onyx eyes.

"They will be fine," he assured me. "Do you think I'd put Catherine in the line of fire if I thought there was a one in a million chance someone would pierce Duo's disguise and open up on them? Do you think I'd put _him _there?"

"Of course not," I said promptly, knowing Chang's sense of honor all too well.

Remember I said he was the calm, cool one of our team? Well, he was proving it again.

But I could think on my feet as well. "Drive around the corner, Chang. We'll drop them off out of sight of the courthouse and let them walk from there. That way if someone spots us, we won't draw attention to them."

"Smart move," he agreed, throwing the car back into motion and pulling onto the street.

We only went about a block away, and then he turned onto a quiet side street. "Will this do?"

"Perfect." I turned to face Catherine and Duo. "Just do this the way we planned. Get in line and make your way through security."

"You boys will meet us inside?"

"Yes. After we check in, our plan is to leave the law enforcement area and work our way to the public entrance. Once you've gone through the metal detectors and been admitted, we can use our badges to escort you to the limited access area and the courtroom itself."

"And you're sure Quat will bring me something to change into?" Duo nudged, looking down at his skirt with a frown.

"Absolutely," I assured him, knowing it was past the time for teasing—not that I could have managed it with my nerves so on edge. "He's got a suit he had tailor-made, using measurements from one of your old striptease outfits Trowa dug out for him."

"Hope I haven't gained weight," Duo quipped mirthlessly.

"I'm sure he made allowances for that," I pointed out. "This is Quatre we're talking about."

"Oh—right. Mister Tactical Genius himself. He _would _prepare for every contingency."

"I'm counting on it." I leaned over the back of the seat to brush a quick kiss on Duo's painted lips. "Go knock 'em dead, lover."

"Like _that'll _get me inside the courthouse," he joked back.

Then he and Catherine got out and walked off side by side, looking for all the world like two secretaries on their way to work, or a couple of chicks out shopping. The disguise was really, really good.

"Well—this is it," Wufei sighed, rubbing sweaty palms on his pant legs. "I guess we should go check in with the Captain and pretend we didn't find Maxwell."

I reluctantly tore my gaze away from my lover, resisting the urge to go after him—to grab him and flee again. "I guess so."

We drove around to the restricted parking area, and were admitted by the gate guard as soon as we flashed our badges. Then it was a simple matter to find a spot for the car and head for the security office.

I went first, setting my badge down on the table and signing the log sheet.

"Detective—Yuy?" The man shot to his feet, eyes wide. "Holy shit. D'you know how many people are looking for you?"

I looked up blandly. "Quite a few, I imagine. But my main concern is to locate Captain Po and check in with her. Would you happen to know where she can be found?"

"Yeah—right here—about every five minutes," he said dryly. "She's been haunting this desk all morning."

"So—we should wait here?"

"Oh no. I'll page her," he said quickly. "She left her number."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

While he'd been checking me in, the guard had also cleared Wufei, and so the two of us moved off into the hallway while he paged our boss.

She came at just under the speed of light, striding around the corner so quickly she nearly mowed us down. "Yuy! Chang!" Her face registered instant disappointment as she realized we were alone. "You didn't find him."

I shook my head.

"Fuck."

Wufei and I both gaped at our boss, having rarely heard such language from the normally professional woman.

"Noventa will have my head on a pike," she sighed. "I promised him if anyone could produce his witness, it'd be you two."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I shrugged. "Where would we find him? We may as well be the ones to explain the fuck-up."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it—at least not right now. He's in court already, arguing his case for a continuance until he can produce Maxwell."

"Ah. Our appearance without him might just complicate things for the D.A.," suggested Chang.

"Exactly. If the judge finds out Maxwell's gone missing—."

"What is Noventa telling her?"

"So far he's just saying you were delayed on the way here, but that you're coming. With Maxwell."

"How long do you think he can stall for time?"

"Once he knows you're here, he'll probably call it quits," she admitted. "If he withdraws the charges, he'll have a chance to try again another time."

"I see." I looked down the hallway leading towards the public viewing areas. "Shall we wait somewhere for him to get out of the courtroom?"

"Yes—preferably somewhere the FBI won't get wind of your arrival."

"Too late," came a stern voice.

We turned to see a scowling man wearing his FBI identification pinned to the front of his suit.

"Agent Alexander," sighed the Captain. "What excellent timing."

"So these are your renowned detectives? The men who've single-handedly kept your precious witness safe from all comers?"

"No thanks to _you _people!" Wufei blurted angrily. "Your Agent Sims very nearly killed us all!"

"Sims?" The man's tone and expression changed dramatically. "What's he got to do with anything? He's not on this case."

"No? Well he must not have gotten that memo," I said snidely, adding my own ire to that of my partner.

"Explain."

"When we contacted the Captain about safe passage to the courthouse, someone must have tipped off your boy Sims. He and his crew waylaid our escort and showed up in their place, trying to get us to hand Maxwell over so they could take him to Khushrenada."

"Are you sure that was his name?"

"He identified himself, when he thought he could fool us into trusting him."

"Sims?" he asked again, as if unable to digest the information. "You're telling me _Sims _is dirty?"

"Actually, he's dead," I informed him a bit gleefully. "Maxwell killed him with a switchblade when he and his boys opened up on Chang, me, and the hostage they'd brought along to barter with."

The man's grey eyes widened. "I want the whole story, boys. And I want it now. I want you to describe the man who identified himself as Sims, anyone who was with him, and tell me every word they said to you."

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble identifying them yourself, if you send someone up to examine the bodies," I pointed out.

"_Bodies_? How many?"

"Several. And they were all killed in self-defense. Captain Po can tell you the location—though obviously _someone_ in your department already knows it."

"Someone who's _dead_, according to you. And I need my questions answered _now_!"

"I'll have our investigators fax down photos from the scene," Captain Po cut in, clearly not enjoying having the FBI stomping all over her territory.

Alexander turned an outraged look on her. "You knew about this ambush?"

"Only since yesterday," she replied coolly. "I sent a team to the area to find and retrieve two of my own men, and I expect news from them shortly."

"And when were you going to share this information with me?" demanded the pushy agent.

"When I determined it was any of your fucking business!" she shot back. "All Yuy told me was that someone claiming to be from the FBI had tried to take Maxwell by force. We have no idea who the men really are—not until they're fingerprinted and processed. Then, and only then, we'll know if they're from your department—and let me tell you, the possibility that they are, does _not _inspire me to trust you, or include you in the investigation!"

Wow. She was impressive when she was all fired up.

But time was slipping by, and I exchanged a glance with Chang, wondering how we might extricate ourselves soon enough to make the meeting with Duo and Catherine.

"Could this pissing contest wait a bit?" my partner asked with an irritable tone that made me think he had a plan. "Yuy took a bullet in the shoulder a couple of days ago, and we were too busy chasing after Maxwell to provide more than minimal care."

"You were _shot_?" demanded Captain Po, looking at me in horror. "When you said 'injured,' I didn't realize—."

"What do you mean 'chasing after Maxwell'?" Alexander interjected.

"I'm fine," I insisted, giving Wufei a dirty look. "Chang dug the bullet out and patched me up."

"You need to have it looked at," insisted Wufei, frowning at me before turning his glare towards Agent Alexander. "We'll be happy to explain everything that happened. Later. But first, I must insist on medical care for my partner."

"What did you mean about Maxwell?"

"He gave us the slip," Chang explained, settling a hand on my injured shoulder and putting just enough pressure on it to make me wince. "During the confusion at the amusement park, he stole an SUV and took off. With Yuy wounded, and an innocent hostage to safeguard, we were unable to give chase until it was too late."

"Fuck!" snapped the FBI agent.

It was a very popular word just then—one I was considering using on my partner, if he didn't quit gripping my shoulder in a determined attempt to prove I was unwell.

"Chang, take Yuy to a doctor," ordered Captain Po, her concerned gaze on my taut features. "Don't come back here until he's cleared for duty. That's an order."

"Listen here, Po—," Alexander snarled.

"Yes, sir!" Wufei said with alacrity, pulling me towards the door to the public part of the courthouse, before our boss could wonder which way we'd come in, or the FBI guy could try to detain us.

And then we were in the stairwell, pattering up the stairs towards our rendezvous.

"Quick thinking, Chang," I complimented my partner, rubbing my sore shoulder as we climbed. "But you lay a hand on that spot again and I'll shoot you."

"You weren't playing along," he pointed out. "I needed to make you express the severity of your wound, so that the Captain would see the need for medical attention."

"Prick."

"Stubborn ass."

We burst out into the main entrance to the courthouse and were confronted by a milling throng of people.

There were several security lines, which expedited things. But with such a crowd, there was just no way to alleviate the congestion.

"Do you see them?" Chang asked, scanning the passing heads for a glimpse of chestnut curls or Catherine's auburn hair.

"Not yet." I let my gaze sweep across the room, searching.

"You don't suppose he really _would _cut and run?"

"Not after all he went through to get ready," I pointed out. "Besides, he couldn't possibly move very fast in those heels."

Wufei chuckled, and shook his head—though he sobered quickly. "Look at all the badges in this place." He nodded towards the heavily-staffed security booths.

"I'm more concerned with all the guns," I muttered unhappily. We were practically surrounded with cops and FBI agents—all armed and on edge. On top of that, there was no way of telling which of them might be on Khushrenada's payroll—just waiting for a last chance to silence Maxwell permanently.

Wufei pointed towards the security station. "There—just coming through."

We watched Catherine gathering her purse back from the uniformed guard who'd just finished searching her, and then she strode over to where Duo was waiting for her, looking decidedly pissed.

"Well what's got his panties in a twist?" muttered my partner with a smirk.

"If I were you, I wouldn't ask," I replied, deeply relieved that our companions had made it inside. "At least—not in those exact words."

But he didn't have to ask—neither of us did; Duo started griping the moment he spotted us.

"What _is _it with you cops?" he demanded, stalking over and putting his hands on his hips, casting a glare back towards the security station.

"Problem?" I asked, wishing he'd keep his voice down and not draw attention in that crowded setting.

"Yeah—the fuckhead in charge of frisking women decided to cop a feel!"

Wufei darted an alarmed look at Catherine. "Is that true?"

"Well, not the line I was in. But I did overhear Duo's officer make a comment about how pretty his eyes were—and ask if he was single."

"Yeah—right before he grabbed my ass!"

"Oh really?" I looked over Duo's shoulder, torn between wanting to defend his honor, and wanting to make sure no one noticed the male pitch to his voice. "Which line were you in?" Maybe I could come back later and thrash the stupid guard…

He scowled at me, grabbing my arm. "Never mind. Just get me the Hell out of these clothes, would ya?"

"Any time," I grinned eagerly, starting to lead him away from the bustling crowd.

"Lech."

"No—I just want more between you and a bullet than a flimsy pair of pantyhose!"


	55. Making an Entrance

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm going to say this at the beginning of the next few chapters, and then not repeat it again, okay? Just for the record, I DON'T do death fics. Please keep that in mind. Um, and for those who don't hate Relena, I'm very sorry—but I needed her for a certain role here—and so, forgive her OOC bigotry, please!

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Five: Making an Entrance

We were making our way down the hall towards the stairway, when I noticed a couple of suit-clad men watching us a bit too intently, and realized Agent Alexander might have alerted his men to our presence in the courthouse.

Or they were just ogling my lover with thoughts of asking him out. I didn't like either scenario.

"Fuck," I muttered, looking over at Wufei, who had a death grip on Catherine's arm and a tense look on his face. "Where's Winner?"

As if on cue, the blonde appeared from the hallway leading to the video monitor rooms. He had a bundle tucked under one arm, and his eyes lit with relief upon seeing us. "Heero! Wufei!"

I hastily shushed him, glancing over my shoulder to see if we were being watched. "Why don't you just hold up a sign?" I asked scathingly.

"Oh—sorry." He blushed slightly and his gaze slid over to Duo, eyes widening in realization. "Wow! That's just—impressive. I'd never have picked you out of a crowd."

"That was the idea," Duo chided, reaching for the bundle. "Gimme my clothes."

"Don't be in such a hurry," teased the lawyer. "You look really nice."

Indigo eyes flashed fire at the attorney. "Look—I'm tired, stressed, my feet are killing me, and these fuckin' pantyhose are cutting off my goddamned circulation. Give me something else to wear, or I'll just strip down right here in the hallway. And you know I'll do it—!"

His voice rose just a little in volume, and when I glanced around again, I realized we'd drawn the attention of at least one uniformed officer. So I grabbed the clothing from Winner, and caught Duo's arm in a firm grip. "Keep your voice down and come with me!"

I half-dragged him to the nearest bathroom and shoved him in ahead of me, realizing only after I heard a scandalized gasp from a passing woman that I'd shoved him into a men's room. In drag.

Fuck!

Ignoring the woman, who was covering her kid's eyes and hauling him away, I followed Duo inside, to find him already unbuttoning the blouse and kicking off the shoes.

"In a stall, please!" I snapped, afraid someone would walk in at any moment.

Hell—if the woman with the kid fetched a security officer and told him she'd seen a deranged Japanese man dragging a woman into a men's room, there'd be no graceful way out.

"We're alone in here," Duo told me matter-of-factly, stripping off the stockings so fast I didn't even get to enjoy the view.

"That doesn't mean we'll stay that way. The outer door doesn't lock."

"Oh." He scurried into the nearest stall, shaking the wrinkles out of a pair of dress slacks from Winner's bundle. "Fuck. No underwear," he lamented from behind the closed door.

"You could leave the pantyhose on," I taunted. "I hear they feel good next to your skin."

"They fuckin' bind in all the wrong places!" insisted my lover. "No fuckin' way am I putting them back on. Not even on a dare!" I heard the rustle of fabric. "I'll just go commando."

Oh, the images _that _conjured.

I really didn't have time to be getting aroused when there were enemies all around us and an irate D.A. waiting upstairs.

"Just hurry it up!" I urged. Then a thought struck me. "Didn't Catherine let you wear your own briefs under the hose?"

"No—some bullshit about 'panty lines.' For Christ's sake, I'm glad I'm not female."

"So am I."

He stepped out of the stall, tucking in a tailored shirt and trailing a tie over one shoulder. "You any good with nooses, love?"

I sighed, grabbing the tie and looping it around his neck. "I can manage. You'd think you never went to a five-star restaurant with Merquise—."

"The rules didn't apply to him. We were never turned away for not wearin' the required black tie."

Duo's wild curls kept getting in the way, tangling in the knot as I worked to straighten and smooth it.

"How are we supposed to tame that mop of yours?" I asked sourly.

"Water, Yuy. A little bit of water will make the curls droop enough so I can comb and braid it."

"I haven't got a comb."

He gestured to the purse he'd thrown on the counter—just one more part of his well-crafted disguise. "Cathy packed me one."

"Maybe I _should _have picked the feisty girl," I teased, taking out the comb and starting to run the water in one of the sinks.

Duo pushed past me with a muttered "Fuck you," and dunked both hands in the water, before running the wet fingers through his hair.

After a few moments of that, he'd dampened the locks enough so we could comb them back into his customary braid.

Then he washed his face, drying it on the skirt he'd discarded, and turned to face me, looking much more like himself. "Better?"

"Perfect," I assured him, stealing a quick kiss. "Let's go put a murderer behind bars, shall we?"

"Let's."

He helped me gather his scattered clothing and stuff it into the tote that had held his suit. Then he pulled on the suit coat, black socks and sensible _male _dress shoes Quatre had provided, and nodded towards the door. "Shall we?"

"I'll go first—in case of trouble."

"You mean in case Quatre or Chang couldn't explain to the security guys why you hauled a woman into a men's room?"

I opened the door a crack and saw Wufei in earnest conversation with a couple of those very guards, saying something about a "pregnant woman" and "morning sickness."

"Holy fuck," Duo whispered at my side. "Is he telling them what I think he is? I'll fuckin' kill him!"

I pressed my lips together to keep from smirking, and turned to look at him. "I'll walk out by myself and go join Wufei—corroborate his story. You slip out a few seconds later, and unobtrusively join Winner in the hallway. Keep your braid over your shoulder and tucked close to blend with the jacket as much as possible, and don't look directly at the officers.

"I know how to blend in, Yuy. I was a pickpocket once."

"Right. Just—be subtle."

"You got it."

I stepped out of the men's room and headed straight over to Chang, keeping up the façade he'd begun. "She's much better!" I said with a sheepish smile. "We almost didn't make it—."

The guard—one I'd never seen before—eyed me up and down. "Is your wife okay, sir?"

"Fine. She's just taking a few minutes to freshen up."

"Morning sickness," Wufei said with a firm nod and a wise tone of voice.

"Sorry we went into the wrong room," I apologized, stepping to the side away from the men's room so that the guards' eyes would follow me and they'd miss the motion as Duo slipped out and made his way to Quatre. "She felt ill, and I'm afraid I sort of panicked."

"First pregnancy," Chang added helpfully, clapping me on the shoulder. "He hasn't been himself since he found out."

The guard smiled understandingly. "I know the feeling. When Bessie had our first, I just about wrapped the car around a telephone pole trying to back out of the driveway to take her to the hospital—."

I managed an insincere chuckle. "I'm sure I'll do worse, when the time comes." I put a hand on Wufei's shoulder in a companionable gesture. "Did you say there was a vending machine in the hallway? I think she might like some crackers or something."

"Oh, yes—why don't we go get them for when she comes out?" He led the way, giving the two officers a polite nod before ushering me around the corner where our friends were waiting.

But we found only Quatre and Catherine, the former holding a tote bag full of women's clothing.

"Where's Duo?" I snapped without preamble.

"Relax, Yuy," Winner said soothingly. "He was thirsty and went to the water fountain in the hall."

Wufei looked around the corner. "Then why is he down by the security stations?"

"What?!" I followed his gaze, and saw the slim figure of my lover moving gracefully through the crowd—towards the metal detectors and security guards. "Oh fuck!"

Duo reached the end of the line he'd come through, and politely tapped the officer on the shoulder, waiting until the man turned, and then decking him with a swift, smooth right cross.

There was an immediate murmur from the crowd, and a small yelp from a startled woman—and then as other officers began to converge on the scene of the disturbance, Duo slipped between a couple of portly men and ducked behind a woman with bleached hair, before making his way around the edges of the throng and back towards our position.

He hardly caused a ripple as he moved casually between milling people, and had I not known who I was watching and why, I'd have lost sight of him as quickly as the security people did.

The next thing I knew, he disappeared between two stone columns, and a few seconds later appeared at my side, straightening his cuffs and smoothing his tie. "Miss me?" he teased.

"What the _fuck _was that?" I hissed, quickly ushering him down the hallway, our companions close behind to camouflage our exit.

"The fucker groped me, Yuy. I owed him one."

"This is not the time!" I snarled, feeling my gut clench with worry. "If you'd been spotted down there—detained by security—."

"But I wasn't. I told you I'm good at blending."

"You don't have the luxury of playing games right now."

"It wasn't a game. It was—." Duo darted me a look that was half-petulant and half-anxious. "I needed to let out a little frustration, Yuy. I hadda vent _something_. Right now I'm wound so tight I'm gonna explode—."

"If you think the pressure's bad now—wait five minutes!"

"That's the point. If I _did _wait, I'd have blown a gasket. This way—it took the edge off. A little."

I couldn't argue with him—not when my heart was still in my throat at the risk he'd taken. I wanted to beat him—and I wanted to hug him. Part of me was still screaming to grab him and run. I was so muddled and conflicted it's a wonder I could even walk straight.

But walk I did.

Chang and I walked him right to the limited access door, before bidding farewell to Quatre and Catherine, who planned to go watch the trial proceedings in one of the monitor rooms.

"You'll be fine," Winner told his client. "Just follow Noventa's instructions and he'll walk you right through it."

Duo nodded, looking unconvinced.

Then Catherine stepped up to give him a hug. "Tro' and I will be pulling for you, Duo. He's got seats saved for Quatre and me in the gallery—so we'll be watching every minute."

"Yeah, thanks. And tell Trowa thanks, too—for everything." He let go of her and squared his shoulders, giving me a quick nod. "Let's get up there and fuck with Khushrenada's head, eh?"

I managed a tense smile. "You've got it."

And then Chang ran his security badge through the slot, and the door opened to grant us access to the upper floors.

* * *

We climbed the two flights of stairs in record time. Hell, with the adrenaline rushing through our systems, we probably could've flown.

And when we came out into the hallway by the courtroom, I resisted the urge to throw myself in front of Duo, and instead took up a position close to his side as we approached the bailiff at the door.

Chang flipped out his badge for inspection, and my mind took an eerie little side trip to my first sight of Duo backstage at Sanc. I remembered my partner hauling out that damned thing and sending our potential witness running for the hills.

It fortunately didn't have that effect this time. But it also didn't impress the bailiff very much.

"I'm sorry," he said in a tone that was anything but. "Court's in session—no one's allowed in."

"Trust me," Wufei said with a rather condescending smile. "We're allowed."

"Not by me, you aren't."

Chang's hackles rose at that, and I could almost smell the testosterone level in that hallway increase exponentially. "If you'd be so kind as to tell the D.A. we're here—I'm quite sure he'll want us inside that courtroom."

"And I'm quite sure I'm not gonna piss the judge off by opening that door and interrupting her session."

"Tell her Detectives Yuy and Chang have arrived with Maxwell," came my partner's icy reply. "And you might just save your job!"

"I also might lose it, an' I'm not takin' the chance. You can wait for a recess and then go in."

"Do you even _know _what's going on in that courtroom?" Chang snarled. "They're trying Treize Khushrenada for murder, you twit!"

"Oh really? Well, I don't care if they're trying the goddamned Pope! My job is to keep order in the courtroom—and that means not allowing folks in and out while there's a case going on."

"You are a blithering idiot!" shouted Wufei. "Without Maxwell there _is _no case, and if you don't let us in this moment, I'll rip your fucking head off and shit down your throat!"

The bailiff was reaching for a gun with one hand, and his walkie-talkie with the other, when a door at the end of the hall opened and I saw Captain Po heading our way, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open when she saw the three of us standing there.

At almost the same instant, Agent Alexander came from the opposite direction, and his gaze flicked over Chang and me, coming to rest on Maxwell, before his eyes widened in recognition.

"No time for niceties, Chang," I said curtly, shoving past the bailiff and flinging open the doors to the courtroom—pushing Duo ahead of me into the aisle.

He stumbled his way in, and then stopped and straightened his tie and faced the front of the room.

You could have heard a pin drop in the sudden silence that fell over that court.

Noventa and Septum had been standing directly in front of the judge, apparently arguing between dismissing the case and gaining a continuance. But they fell silent with the rest of the people in the room, slowly turning to face Duo, Chang and me, as well as the bailiff tugging frantically at my partner's sleeve.

Wufei shook off the offending arm, and glared back over his shoulder, and even the bailiff quieted down.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the judge. She stood from her seat, glaring down over the imposing desk. "How dare you come bursting into my courtroom? Who _are_ you people?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but just then caught sight of Khushrenada. He'd turned with the rest of his defense team, and the aristocratic face was drained of all color—his steely eyes wide with horror at the sight of Maxwell, alive and well in the courtroom.

It was—a lovely moment.

And then I heard a throat clear, and my lover took a tentative step towards the bench, bringing my gaze back to him. "Uhmm—Your Honor? M-my name's Duo Maxwell, and I—witnessed Zechs Merquise's murder. I'm here to testify for the prosecution."

There was an instant of breathless disbelief, and then the courtroom erupted in noise, spectators and staff babbling in excitement and shock.

Khushrenada's eyes narrowed viciously, directing a perfectly deadly glare at my lover, and I instinctively stepped between them, glaring back. There'd be no harm done to Duo as long as I was there to protect him!

The grey eyes met mine, and I swear, an instant of perfect understanding passed between us. Treize knew if he lifted a finger towards Duo, I'd happily kill him.

Instead, he smiled a bit too smugly for my liking, and very deliberately turned away, leaning in to whisper to Dorothy Catalonia.

I felt a tug at my sleeve, and looked back to meet Duo's anxious gaze. "What's next—?" he asked in a rather small, frightened voice.

"Just—stay put," I whispered back, keeping my body as a shield in front of his, knowing full well my partner had his back. "Noventa?" I called in a stern tone.

The D.A. gestured me to wait, still facing the judge. "But, Your Honor—if I could have twenty-four hours to prepare this witness—."

"It's already been twenty-four _days_!" argued Septum. "We've been ready to proceed with the defense for weeks—and the prosecution's put us off with promises that their alleged witness would show up in time. And he didn't! The jury has already been selected and the trial's under way!"

"We've barely begun opening arguments. There's no reason we can't—."

"Shut _up_!" snapped the judge, banging her gavel for order. "I want silence!"

She banged it a few more times, and finally the excited murmurs died down to hushed whispers and then silence.

"Mister Noventa—your witness is here, and appears to be dressed for court and ready to proceed. You should not need twenty-four hours to start presenting your case. I'll give you two."

"But Judge—!" Septum and Noventa blurted in unison.

"This court is in recess!" announced Judge Lake, banging the gavel one more time. "We'll resume in two hours."

* * *

Noventa was down the aisle like a shot, not even bothering with a handshake before grabbing Duo's arm and spinning him around to head out the door.

I caught Noventa's arm in a bruising grip—my other hand starting to reach to check him for a gun. "Let him go—!"

"Yuy!" Chang hissed urgently. He caught my eye and nodded to the D.A. who was now looking perplexedly at me. "He's not armed. He just wants to interview Maxwell."

"I—uh—sorry," I fumbled, releasing him reluctantly. "Just—don't move so fast?"

He gave a short nod, and turned his attention back to Duo. "Mister Maxwell—I've got an office just down the hall. We can go over your testimony and prepare you for the stand."

Duo nodded, glancing back as the man led him into the hallway and Chang and I tagged along, still unwilling to let him out of our sight.

But Captain Po met us just outside the door, Agent Alexander right beside her. "Yuy! Chang! I want an explanation."

Wufei caught my sleeve. "I'll deal with them. You stay with Duo."

As if anyone could have pried me away at that point?

"Thanks," I said simply, speeding up my steps to overtake the D.A. and my lover, while my partner turned back to face our irate boss.

Did I ever mention what a selfless partner Wufei was?

We took a left turn down another hallway, and I found myself scanning the area for threats, as if gunmen might jump out of some shadowy alcove even at this late date.

Instead, something even worse happened. Relena came out of one of the offices, and when she saw me, she dropped the files she was carrying and literally ran to throw herself into my arms.

"Heero!" Her grip around my neck was nearly strangling me. "Oh thank God you're here!" she whispered fervently in my ear. "I need your help. I'm in big, big trouble."

I looked over her shoulder at Duo and Noventa, who were standing at the door to the D.A.'s office. My lover's face was a cross between shock and outrage, and then suddenly he was jerking free of Noventa's grasp and striding back towards me.

"What the _fuck _is your problem, lady?" he demanded of Relena.

She turned a startled look to him, and his eyes widened. "You!" he spat.

Relena backed up into me, cringing from his furious glare, and her hand sought mine. I was too busy wondering how the fuck Duo knew her to shake it off.

"You have got to _stop fucking __**stealing**__ my boyfriends!_" Duo ranted, starting to reach for her shirt front.

She ducked behind me, letting out a little shriek of fright, and then Noventa overtook Duo and caught hold of his arm.

"Maxwell—now! We only have a couple of hours, and you and I have a lot of ground to cover."

Duo let himself be dragged away, glaring back over his shoulder at me and the girl cowering behind me.

Only after the door slammed behind him and Noventa did I shake off my confusion and turn to face Relena.

"How the hell do you know Duo Maxwell?" I demanded.

Her blue eyes widened, and she paled noticeably. "Just—I—saw him once—," she stammered.

"Saw him _where_?"

"At—at my brother's penthouse—."

"Your brother?" I said with dawning realization. "You mean Zechs Merquise?"

"Shhh!" She grabbed my hand and tugged me back towards the office she'd just come out of. "Not out here! Anyone might hear you!"

I let her pull me into the office and slam the door, and then I slammed _her _up against the door. "Talk to me, Relena. I want to know why Duo Maxwell recognized you just now, and if it has anything to do with the information you've been leaking to Khushrenada's people."

"You—know about that—?"

I slammed a fist into the door next to her head. "Now I do!" I shouted. "You nearly got us fucking _killed _Relena!"

"You weren't supposed to get hurt!" she wailed. "Only _him_."

"Him?" I asked dangerously. "You mean Duo?"

"I mean the slut my idiot of a brother was sleeping with when he was killed!"

I gaped at her for a second, too stunned to react.

"You don't understand!" she rushed on. "I only found out about Zechs—Milliardo—a few months ago. My mother told me, when I turned eighteen. I wanted to meet him; I was curious. So I contacted him and we met for lunch. He had some pictures back at his penthouse—of my mother and his father—and I wanted to see them. So we went back there. Only that—Maxwell fellow showed up as I was leaving, when I was hugging Milliardo goodbye. And he threw a fit. He said some awful things and then took off. And my brother just shoved me into the nearest cab and went after him." She wiped at her eyes with the back of a hand. "I didn't even know Milliardo was gay until then, Heero. Let alone that the man he was dating was a stripper. But after the murder, it ended up all over the papers."

I backed away from her, certain that the fury of my glare would keep her in place. "So you tampered with the DNA evidence—."

"Yes! If my hairs were found at the penthouse, I'd have had to explain why I was there."

"And you told Khushrenada that Winner was helping hide Duo."

"No! It was that _woman _who approached me."

"Une?"

"The one with glasses—I _think_ she called herself that."

"Don't play dumb with me, Relena. You know who Treize Khushrenada's assistant is."

"Heero—I had no choice. She said that if I didn't help them—if the case went to trial and Khushrenada was convicted—she'd make sure everyone found out that Zechs Merquise was my brother. _And _that he was related to the Chief of Police. It would ruin my father's career!"

I blinked in surprise. "They were _blackmailing _you?"

"Yes!" She took a step towards me. "You see how it is? I couldn't let them ruin my father. And the scandal—."

"The scandal would have been nothing!" I snarled, making her step back again. "You were willing to sacrifice Duo's life—and mine—and Chang's—for your fucking _reputation_?"

"I told you—she said you and Wufei wouldn't be harmed. It was only the stripper they were after."

"His name is Duo!"

Her blue eyes narrowed, and a coy gleam entered them, in spite of the paleness of her face. "Since when have you called hookers by their first names?"

"He's not a hooker!" I snapped defensively. "He was your brother's lover—and his friend. Someone who planned to spend a lifetime with him!" The pieces were falling into place all at once, and I knew, suddenly, why Merquise had died. It was Relena's fault.

"When you insinuated yourself into Zechs' life by having lunch with him," I said coldly. "Someone from Khushrenada's organization spotted you together, and thought he was turning State's evidence. You signed your own brother's goddamned death warrant, Relena!"

She gasped in shock, a hand going over her mouth. "I didn't know!" she blurted. "How could I know that would happen?"

"He was a fucking crime lord. You knew _that _much."

She nodded hesitantly.

"And yet you wanted to meet him? Why?"

"He was family."

"Yes—family you tried to disown the moment he wound up dead!" I reminded her. "If you were so eager to bring him into the fold, why not tell the world about your relationship?"

"Because he was gay, Heero!" she stormed. "He was gay and a drug lord. I went to find my brother, and instead found a man who sickened me. I never wanted to see him again, after that one meeting. And when I heard about the murder, I had to make sure there was no way he could be connected to me—to my family, and my father." She raised her chin stubbornly. "If people found out that Chief Darlian was related to someone as vile as Zechs Merquise, it would ruin him! And since I was the link between them, I had to keep my DNA out of the case completely. I _had _to hide the files—don't you see?"

"And you _had _to give information to Une to help her send assassins after my partner and me, and the man we were assigned to protect?"

"I told you—."

"—I wasn't supposed to get hurt," I finished scornfully. "Yes, you keep saying that. But I fucking got _shot_, Relena. I almost died! And so did Wufei—several times. And Duo—and an innocent girl you never even met! You nearly got us all killed, because your father's goddamned reputation was more important to you than our lives."

"Than _his _life!" she hissed angrily, scowling up at me. "Damn it, Heero—what's the life of one drugged-up stripper compared to my father's career?"

I slapped her so hard across the face it drew blood from her lips. "His life is _everything_!" I growled back.

She put a hand to her bruised lips, tears spilling over from the blue eyes onto her cheeks. "Then what he said in the hall—it was true? You—you're—?"

"Gay? Yes, Relena, I am. And I'm Duo's boyfriend—just like he said." I took great satisfaction at seeing her horrified expression.

"That's why you never would go out with me—."

I rolled my eyes. "No shit," I drawled, in a fair imitation of my lover. "But right now, Relena, this isn't about your love life—or the lack of one. You are an accessory to attempted murder, witness tampering, obstruction of justice, withholding evidence—." I shook my head. "You're going to jail for nearly as long as Khushrenada will."

She twisted away from me, her face a study in revulsion, anger and fear. "But surely a jury would understand—I had no choice! I was being blackmailed—threatened! I'm as much a victim as you—as that—that freak with the braid!"

I lunged for her, and she squealed in fear, yanking open the door and dashing down the hallway, while I stepped out and paused, debating whether to go after her, or stand guard at Noventa's door.

In the end, my devotion to Duo settled the issue for me. Safeguarding his life was more important than playing tag with a spoiled girl who'd let her prejudices and fears make her endanger not just the case against Khushrenada, but people's lives as well.

Besides, I knew she wouldn't go far. She was, after all, the Chief of Police's daughter. And if I was any judge of character, she'd run straight to him and try to hide behind her daddy's rank.

Not that she could. Not from _this_.

But I quickly pulled out the cell phone I still had tucked in my pocket and punched in the number for Captain Po—getting her voice mail, since she was apparently still too busy grilling Wufei to answer. "Captain—it's Yuy. I need you to issue an arrest warrant for Relena Darlian. She admitted to tampering with evidence and leaking information on our whereabouts while we were hiding Maxwell. But she took off, and I'm still on guard outside Noventa's office. If you alert security right away, maybe they can stop her."

I clicked the phone shut, shaking my head. Relena was probably already speeding out of the parking lot in her daddy's Mercedes. But seriously, she wasn't a particularly circumspect criminal, or she'd never have blurted out so much to me so quickly. I didn't think she'd stay at large for long.

I parked myself on the bench in the hallway, unable to hear even the murmur of voices behind the thick oak door on Noventa's office, and waited for a chance to smooth things over with my lover.

Yes, now that I had time to catch my breath—I recalled the stricken look on his face when Relena was in my arms. I expected him to be angry, and hurt, and maybe even accusing, when next we talked. But I was willing to brave all that, and reassure him that what he'd seen was not what it looked like at all.

No matter what, we were still engaged. And I wasn't about to let a little thing like Relena Darlian mess that up.


	56. Opening Statements

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Six: Opening Statements

I'd been cooling my heels in the hallway for close to an hour, my elbows on my knees and my face cradled in my hands, when Chang showed up, with Captain Po and Agent Alexander right behind him.

"Yuy? Is Noventa still in with Maxwell?" asked the Captain.

I jerked a thumb at the door beside me, a bit irritated at the unnecessary question. Where the Hell else did she think he'd be?

She rapped on the door and then let herself in. But before Alexander could follow, I stood up quickly and caught his arm. "I'd like that gun," I told him curtly, nodding towards his sidearm.

He stopped and glared, while Captain Po turned around sharply. "Yuy!"

"Look, Captain—we were shot at by several FBI agents and some hired muscle. I'm not trusting this guy or anyone else from the Bureau around Maxwell with a gun!"

Alexander jerked his weapon from its holster, ending the discussion. "Here. Take it. I want him alive as much as you do."

"I don't think that's possible," I replied gruffly, taking the gun and sticking it in my belt.

I then turned my gaze to my boss. "Did you listen to your voice mail?"

"Yes—I sent two uniforms after Relena, and another to secure my office and start scanning for bugs."

I gave a nod of satisfaction, and stepped back so they could proceed into the office. I caught only the briefest glimpse of Duo seated across from Noventa, both of their faces turned our way momentarily. Then the door shut behind Po and Alexander, and I sighed, dropping back into my seat on the bench.

Wufei plunked down beside me, looking a bit the worse for wear himself. "So Relena _was _the leak."

I nodded. "She came right out and admitted it."

There was a long pause, and then, "I guess it's not really _that_ much of a surprise. She had access. The only question would be motive—."

"Oh, we have it." I sat up and leaned back against the hard wooden slats of the bench. "She knew Zechs was her brother. Her mother told her on her eighteenth birthday. She'd gone to meet him shortly before he was murdered."

"—the unidentified hair samples?"

"Hers."

"So she misplaced evidence to cover the fact that she'd been at the scene of a crime. But why leak information to Khushrenada's people?"

"She said Une was blackmailing her—threatening to discredit Chief Darlian by telling the press that he was related to Zechs Merquise. When I told her that didn't justify risking people's lives, she said 'what's the life of one drugged-up stripper compared to my father's career?'"

Wufei's dark eyes smoldered. "And you let her run off?"

"I felt that staying close to Duo and safeguarding his life was more important," I pointed out. "Plus, I called Po and left a message for her to get a warrant issued. You know Relena won't go far, anyway. Think about it. Darlian's her father; she'll expect him to bail her out of this."

"Bail her out of tampering with evidence? Leaking information that nearly got a protected witness killed…not to mention his protectors… and Catherine? There's no fucking way!" My partner's voice rose in outrage.

"Relax, Chang. You and I both know the Chief won't—and can't—shield her from this. She'll get what's coming to her."

"I can't see why you're so calm about it!" My partner's thirst for justice was all but strangling him, while mine had been partially sated during my altercation with Relena.

I managed a shrug and a smile. "Slapping her silly more or less got it out of my system—at least now that I know Duo's relatively safe and that Relena _will _get what's coming to her. Plus, I've had an hour to digest the information and calm down."

"You—slapped her?"

"Hard," I said with great satisfaction. "She's lucky that's all it was."

Wufei nodded sagely. "I see your point. Slapping her silly would help to get my anger under control too."

I think we were both riding a fading edge of adrenaline that left us a bit slap-happy, literally _and _figuratively.

I fixed a questioning look on him. "So, how did it go with the Captain?"

"She calmed down once I explained our rationale for lying about Duo's whereabouts." He managed a wry smile. "In fact, I think she was impressed by our resourcefulness in getting him past security."

"She should be. It was quite the project."

"And he looked hot," Chang reminded me cheekily.

I mustered a wan smile at that, knowing he was trying to keep my spirits up. Now that the anticipation was over and we were up to our eyeballs in court procedures and testimony, I was feeling the strain.

I honestly had no idea what would happen next. I mean, obviously Noventa would put Duo on the witness stand—probably as soon as the two hour recess was over. But what then?

While there might be time for him to complete his testimony in one afternoon, I doubted that the cross-examination would be so quick. He'd almost certainly have to take the stand again tomorrow—and possibly after that, if they needed to revisit any of his testimony.

I didn't know if they had a hotel lined up, or planned to keep Duo here in the courthouse. I didn't like the idea of him leaving; with the potential for snipers, taking him outside was just asking for trouble.

But I did know Chang's and my part in the protective detail was over. We'd be expected to resume our duties as detectives and leave the handling of the court case to the officers who'd taken over investigating Merquise's murder. Furthermore, there'd be someone else assigned to guard Duo.

And I really, really hated that thought.

"Feel like going out for a beer tonight?" I asked abruptly.

"Tonight?" Wufei looked surprised.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they won't let me stay here—no matter how much I want to keep protecting Duo. And I'm equally sure they aren't going to let him leave. So—I'll be pretty much on my own tonight—for the first time since—."

"Wow—it has been a while."

Chang and I exchanged rather lost looks, neither of us able to picture an evening without Duo.

Then my partner cleared his throat uneasily. "I'm not comfortable leaving him in someone else's care."

"Me neither."

"Can we even trust the security within the courthouse? If Khushrenada could afford FBI agents—."

"I know, Chang!" I said sharply. "Jesus—I know. But I don't know how to make Captain Po understand our level of paranoia."

Wufei sighed. "Maybe we can just hang around and guard the guards, hm?"

I managed a near-smile at that. "We can at least inquire about the accommodations and security being provided for Duo. I can't imagine them letting him out of the building. Snipers."

"You think they'll keep him here?"

"I'm hoping to find that out shortly."

Before we had time for further speculation, the door opened and the Captain and Alexander came out in the midst of a heated discussion.

"—heard him! He doesn't want your agents anywhere near him!"

"But we're far more experienced in witness protection than a couple of wet behind the ears detectives!"

Did that mean what I thought it did? Was Duo demanding that we stay as his bodyguards? Hope surged within my chest—hope that he'd forgiven me for the scene Relena made in the hallway, and hope that Chang and I could continue to remain with him.

"I'd say that weeks of keeping a witness alive against nearly overwhelming odds makes them uniquely qualified."

Alexander shot me a scathing look, and then directed it back at my boss. "We appreciate all your men did—but it's time to let the experts take over."

"You take that up with Winner. He's Maxwell's attorney—the one he's placed his trust in, and given authority to make decisions for him." She glanced over at my partner and me. "Meanwhile, Yuy and Chang, you're to remain here and continue to safeguard Maxwell. Is that clear?"

I smiled in relief. "Abundantly."

Alexander held out his hand with a sour look on his face. "My gun, if you please, detective?"

I graciously handed it over, too pleased at remaining at my post to hold a grudge against the surly agent.

The Captain turned her gaze to Wufei. "Noventa asked if you'd be so kind as to run down the hall to the vending machines and get a soda for Maxwell. Apparently your witness is thirsty."

"No doubt," smirked my partner. "He had a very long morning. I think all the hair curling and dressing up simply parched him."

I elbowed Chang good-naturedly, getting a puzzled look from our boss before she and the FBI agent walked off still arguing.

"Be right back," Wufei informed me, trotting off to fetch Duo's soda.

He'd barely disappeared when Noventa stepped out of the office, looking up and down the hallway. "Where the fuck—?"

"The Captain and Agent Alexander went _that _way," I told him, pointing back towards the courtroom.

"No—I called downstairs fifteen minutes ago for someone to bring me up Maxwell's criminal file. I don't want any surprises in that courtroom." He frowned at me, and then looked at his watch. "Would you—?"

"Sorry. I'm assigned to protect Maxwell—not play secretary," I told him apologetically. I had no intention of leaving Duo alone and unguarded, even with the District Attorney himself in the room.

He growled in frustration. "Fine. Get in there and protect him, while I run down and fetch that file. Damned secretary—." He stalked off muttering under his breath, and I cautiously stepped into the office and shut the door.

* * *

Duo looked a bit haggard, slumped in a chair across from Noventa's big desk. But he pushed himself upright when he saw me. "So—was Chang right?" he asked in a rather subdued voice.

"About—?"

He swallowed so hard I could see his throat move from halfway across the room. "That chick in the hallway. She your girlfriend?"

"Hell no!" I blurted hastily, crossing to stand in front of him and grab both of his hands. "No, Duo. She's nobody—nothing."

His face was turned away, so I couldn't see his expression. "Then why—?" His voice cracked just slightly and he drew a shaky breath. "Why'd she run to you like that?"

"Because she's a freakin' psycho bitch stalker."

He looked up quickly, a bastard mix of disbelief and hope on his face.

"Shit, Duo. She's been asking me out for months, and I've been turning her down flatly every time. Ask Chang if you don't believe me."

His indigo eyes searched mine, a frown creasing his forehead. "I wanna believe you—."

"Believe this." I leaned in and kissed him deeply and thoroughly, pulling back only when I felt him relax and sigh into the kiss. "I love you, Duo Maxwell. Only you. Forever."

He smiled reluctantly, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "You better not be bullshittin' me, 'Ro—'cause I think it'd just about kill me to lose you—especially to _that _bitch."

"Speaking of the bitch," I said, leaning back against the desk and crossing my arms. "How do you know Relena Darlian?"

He looked confused. "Darlian? Her name's Peacecraft—isn't it?"

"No, it's Relena Darlian—the Chief's daughter."

"B-but Zechs said she was his sister!" Duo's eyes flashed, and I saw doubt enter them. "He _lied _to me?"

I resisted the impulse to ask why Duo was shocked that a crime lord would lie. Considering his relationship with Merquise, he had a right to expect honesty. "No, Duo," I said gently. "He didn't lie."

"But—he was born with the name Peacecraft—Milliardo Peacecraft."

I was a bit surprised Zechs had shared that much with Duo. God, he must have really loved him! "Relena's his half-sister. His mother remarried."

Relief flooded Duo's face, and I felt one of those increasingly rare twinges of jealousy. Of course he wouldn't want to think his dead lover had deceived him. But as usual, when Merquise's ghost drifted in between us, I resented the place he'd had in Duo's life.

"She said she visited him, and that you saw them hugging and got pissed," I added, prompting him to continue.

He smiled wryly. "That's about right. I got off the elevator on my way to the penthouse and saw them in each other's arms." His shrug was unrepentant. "I jumped to the logical conclusion."

"—even if it was dead wrong."

He chuckled. "Took Zechs a week to convince me she was his sister, an' not some bimbo he brought home."

"Are you always so jealous?" I teased.

"Only of guys I really care about." His expression turned a bit wistful. "I kinda made him grovel—or as close to it as a man like him would stoop."

"I imagine he'd stoop to almost anything for you," I said warmly.

"Yeah, I guess he might've…"

"I know I would."

Duo shot me a stern look. "I'd never make you do that, 'Ro."

"I'm glad," I said with genuine relief. "I was afraid when I came in here you'd be angry or hurt, and maybe not even give me a chance to explain."

He shook his head. "I _was _angry and hurt—until Noventa grilled me for an hour, and I had time to cool off and think." His eyes caught and held mine. "You've never played games with me, 'Ro. Never. You just don't have it in you. Even when I was screwing with your head, back at the start of all this, you didn't retaliate. You were always above that kind of shit." A wry smile quirked his lips. "I'll admit, there was a second out there in the hall when I wondered if it'd all been a joke to you—fucking the witness and then waving good-bye without a second thought. But after all we've been through together, I know you better than that. I know you could never do that—not to anyone."

"Not to _you_," I insisted. I reached to smooth a hand down his cheek. "You'll never have to doubt me, love. I promise. You're the only one for me."

He leaned into the touch, sighing just a bit. "God, I can't wait for this all to be over."

The sound of a tap on the door made us both jump apart guiltily. But it was Chang who poked his head in, waving a frosty can of soda. "I hear there's a thirsty witness in here," he teased, walking in and pulling the door shut.

"Thanks, man," Duo said warmly, grabbing the can and popping it open. "Fuckin' Noventa just made me tell him practically my whole life history. I'm dyin' here." He guzzled half the can in a few desperate swallows, and then gave a satisfied belch.

Wufei rolled his eyes. "You can dress him up, but you can't take him out," he sighed.

Noventa burst back in then, causing both Chang and me to whirl and go for our guns. But he merely waved us aside with the thick folder clutched in his hand, still muttering about incompetent office temps as he went around to his desk.

"About your criminal record, Maxwell—."

Duo looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What about it? I was a screwed up kid from the get go—I _told _you."

"There's nothing recent in here."

"No. Should there be?"

"When were you last arrested?"

"Well—not counting Yuy and Chang chasin' me down at Sanc—probably a couple of years ago."

"For—?"

"Drug possession." Duo looked down at the desk, picking at the edge of the blotter. "Look—Noventa—you know all this stuff. You had weeks to read all about it." He gestured vaguely towards the documents.

"That's not the point. The defense will try to discredit you by bringing up things from your past—the drug arrests, theft, drunk and disorderly—and what was that about you engaging in sex in a public park on top of a statue of a horse—?"

Duo ducked his head to hide a smirk. "I was drunk, an' it was a dare. For fuck's sake, counselor, I was barely eighteen at the time!"

"Yes, and the other boy wasn't quite that old, was he?"

"Um, no."

I rolled my eyes, exchanging a long-suffering look with Chang.

"At any rate," Noventa continued brusquely. "Whatever Septum, Tsubarov, or Catalonia brings up, just answer 'yes' or 'no.' Don't elaborate. Don't volunteer _anything_. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good—and as for your account of the murder, remember to simply say you and Merquise had dinner and went to bed. Don't mention sex, like you did when you told it to me. It's one thing for the jury to know you were two gay men in a relationship, and quite another for them to hear the word 'sex.' As open-minded as they are, that might be more than they can handle."

Duo sighed. "I get it. No sex."

"And no swearing, no matter what. If I hear the f-word cross your lips out there just once—!"

"It won't!" Duo promised. "Jeeze, Noventa—I can behave myself for long enough to tell the jury what I saw."

"That part doesn't worry me. The account of the murder you just gave me was very close to your original statement to the police, which lends it great credibility."

"Uh—yeah," Duo said, looking a bit confused. "That means you believe it's the truth?"

"Something like that," came Noventa's amused reply. "But what's really important is that the jury does." He looked at his watch and then at Duo. "It's time for us to get back in there. Do you have any questions for me?"

Duo made a helpless little gesture with his hands. "Would it matter?" he asked wryly. "We're kinda out of time."

Noventa smiled patiently. "I suppose so. Just—stay calm out there. Don't let them fluster you, okay? I'll be the one you're testifying for—and if possible, I'll drag it out so they don't get to cross-examine you until tomorrow. That way you'll have more time to prepare."

My lover's smile was weak, but grateful. "I'd appreciate that," he admitted. "This has all been kind of crazy. I could use a little down time."

"You'll get it."

We headed out of the office, Chang taking point, while I stayed alongside and slightly behind Duo and Noventa. At the corner, my partner paused with a hand out to stop us, and we both scanned the hallway for trouble, keeping Duo shielded with our bodies.

He must have felt like the middle portion of a sandwich, the way we had him pressed between us. "Jesus, 'Ro—'m okay!" he hissed under his breath.

"Maxwell—you do realize that law enforcement officers are permitted weapons even in a courthouse—," Wufei reminded him, glancing back with a vague scowl.

"But there're witnesses—."

"Do you honestly think that would stop them?" I scoffed. "At Khushrenada's price, a man might be willing to risk prison. Just because we're inside a courthouse—it doesn't mean the threats aren't still valid," I pointed out. "Guards and security people can be bought—cops can be bought." How true _that _was!

"FBI agents can be bought," Duo added darkly.

"Absolutely," Noventa agreed, stepping out ahead of us, as if testing the waters.

"What about a D.A.?" Duo inquired warily.

Noventa stopped in his tracks, turning around, and I automatically edged in front of Duo.

"Mister Maxwell—I'd take offense at a question like that, if I didn't know how much you've been through."

"I'm just sayin'—."

"And _I'm _saying—no! I have not been bought," came a firm reply. "That is not to say that a District Attorney is above temptation. Anyone can be tempted. And I'm sure some have been bought. But not me. Not yet."

Duo gave a wry smile. "Nobody found your price yet?"

Noventa shook his head. "I hope they never do."

"Me, too," my lover said with a more relaxed smile. He gave me a quick wink. "I like this guy, Yuy. Quatre was right—he'll walk me right through this."

"That's what I'm here for," replied Noventa. He gestured down the hallway towards the courtroom. "Shall we?"

"Oh yeah—let's go cook Treize's goose."

* * *

All went well as we entered the crowded corridor leading to the court—right up until we were almost at the door. And then, Khushrenada and his entourage arrived from the opposite direction, and he and Duo ended up face to face.

The syndicate leader's keen eyes narrowed astutely as he studied my suddenly-pale lover. "Nice to see you again, Duo," he purred smoothly, his tone hinting at more than a passing acquaintance. "I was very sorry to hear of Zechs' death—my condolences on your loss."

Duo's jaw dropped, but words seemed to fail him. I already had a loose grip on his arm, and could feel him tense with anger.

"You—your _condolences_?" he finally sputtered in outrage, lunging for the crime lord. Fortunately, Chang and I were ready for such a move, and we forcibly held him back. "You fuckin' sonofa—! Don't stand there and patronize me, you bastard! I watched you kill him!"

"Get your client into the courtroom!" Noventa snarled, shoving his way in between our group and theirs.

Khushrenada was chuckling to himself, pleased at having rattled Duo, as he and his team of lawyers entered the courtroom.

"Duo, calm down!" I urged, feeling the raggedness of his breaths as I restrained him.

"Maxwell!"

Chang's voice seemed to cut through Duo's outrage, and he froze and then relaxed in our grasp.

"Sorry," he breathed, sounding thoroughly miserable. "Didn't mean to lose it like that…but…he sounded so fuckin' _smug_."

"He baited you, Maxwell," said the D.A. dispassionately. "And you fell for it. I told you before, you have to keep your cool on the stand."

"I will!" Duo said hotly. "But you also said I wouldn't see _him_ except in the courtroom."

"Bad timing," he conceded. "Now, let's get in there before the judge arrives. She's not a patient woman."

The four of us entered the courtroom to hushed murmurs and curious looks. At that point Wufei and I took positions in the front row, with Duo between us, while Noventa walked through the gate and joined his assistant at the prosecutor's table.

I heard him quietly chastise his subordinate for not having brought him his files, and get a mumbled apology in reply. Then the bailiff called for everyone to rise and we all stood to watch Judge Lake enter and take her place at the bench.

She cast a sharp gaze over both the prosecution and the defense team, and then took her seat as the bailiff announced the court was in session with the Honorable Judge Victoria Lake presiding.

Duo wrinkled his nose at the lengthy introduction, giving me a mischievous sidelong glance that reassured me he had recovered from the encounter at the doorway.

"Mister Noventa—are you ready to begin presenting your case?" asked the judge.

"Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution would like to call Duo Maxwell to the stand."

I surreptitiously squeezed Duo's hand, before standing to let him slide past me and walk through the gate and up to the witness stand.

I was proud of the way he looked up there. His suit, impeccably chosen by Quatre, fit like it was made for him. It was stylish without being obvious, and it made him look—completely and utterly respectable.

I found myself smiling at the thought that he'd finally gotten what he wanted.

Frankly I couldn't care less how respectable he wanted to be. I adored the ebullient, irreverent, brassy and irrepressible man just the way he was. And when his indigo eyes sought mine for reassurance, I'm pretty sure he found it. At least the hint of color that brushed his cheeks made me think he'd seen what he was looking for.

He was sworn in, and then Noventa approached him with a suitably sober expression on his face. "Would you state your name for the court please?"

"Duo Maxwell."

"And how did you know Zechs Merquise?"

I bit my lip to keep from smirking at a random thought that crossed my mind. There was a time Duo probably would have said "inside and out," and winked slyly at the jury.

Instead he looked squarely at the prosecutor and gave a completely serious answer. "First I worked in a club he owned, and later I was his lover, as well as his employee."

"How long were you a couple?"

"Around eight or nine months."

"And was the relationship exclusive?"

"For the last six months it was."

I exchanged a glance with Wufei, pleased at how things were going. For having only had a couple of hours to prepare Duo, Noventa had done a fine job of picking out the things that would lend credibility and sincerity to Duo's testimony.

"Would you please tell the court what happened on the night of Zechs Merquise's death?"

Duo nodded, and I could see his hands tighten on the arms of the chair as he launched into his account of the murder. "We were at his penthouse—Zechs and me. We'd had dinner and gone to bed, and around midnight someone rang the intercom." Duo had that little line in the middle of his forehead that I'd come to recognize as indicating he was thinking rather unpleasant thoughts. "Zechs buzzed them in, and got up to go to the door, while I stayed in bed. But I decided to have a cigarette while I was waiting, and had to get up for my lighter. While I was getting it, I heard what sounded like an argument—someone saying Zechs had betrayed them, an' Zechs denying it. They said they knew about the private bank accounts—that the money he'd been putting in them was a payoff." He shook his head, the scowl deepening. "But Zechs said he'd never betray Oz; he'd never sell out to the cops." He fixed a steady glare on the jury. "He wouldn't have done that! Not Zechs."

"At any rate—," he continued, taking a deep, calming breath and turning his gaze back to Noventa. "I threw on some clothes, 'cause I figured maybe he needed some backup. But before I could go out there, I saw them through the space between the door and the frame. Two guys had Zechs by the arms, on his knees—Khushrenada was standing in front of him, and Une was holding a gun to his forehead."

Noventa raised a hand, and Duo paused. "Une?" asked the D.A.

"Khushrenada's administrative assistant," Duo explained, jerking his head in her direction.

Une was seated in the audience just behind the table where Khushrenada and his defense team sat. She looked as coldly efficient as ever, a briefcase in hand, and her hair pulled back into a tidy little bun.

And why the hell hadn't she been picked up as an accomplice, I wondered. Unless, of course, she was out on bail. But I still didn't like the icy glare she was directing at my lover—as if _she _were the one he was accusing of murder.

Noventa turned the attention of the jury back to Duo by nodding and asking him to continue.

"So—I tried to figure out how I could help Zechs without getting us both killed," Duo went on, a thread of grief seeping into his voice. "I looked through his dresser drawers to see if he had a gun or something—but he didn't. And just when I was gonna go out there anyway, I heard Une ask Khushrenada if she could 'finish the traitor.'" Here Duo raised his eyes to meet Khushrenada's from across the room, hate glittering in their depths. "He said 'no, my dear—this is between Zechs and me—a matter of honor and betrayal.' And then he took the gun out of her hand and shot him."

Duo's voice wavered at the end, and I saw him drop his gaze to the floor, swallowing hard to regain his composure.

Fortunately, the awed murmurs in the courtroom gave Noventa a moment to move in close and say something that seemed to steady Duo's nerves. He patted the back of one of the white-knuckled hands, and then turned and directed his gaze at Khushrenada, even as he continued his questioning of Duo.

"You're sure it was Treize Khushrenada in that penthouse?"

"Yes."

"Had you met him before, that you'd recognize him?"

"I saw him once or twice with Zechs at a nightclub where I worked. I was even introduced once when we bumped into Une and him at a restaurant—yeah, I'd recognize Treize Khushrenada anywhere."

"And did you know the men with him?"

"Sure. Otto and Trant were a couple of his bodyguards, I guess. Hired muscle. At least, they were always a few steps behind when he was out in public. Like the b—. Um—like Une."

Noventa gave Duo a sharp look, and my lover grimaced slightly and looked down at his feet.

"Okay, Mister Maxwell," Noventa continued, smoothing over the near-blunder. "What happened after the murder?"

"I—." Duo faltered, and his eyes sought mine for a moment, before he drew a deep breath. "It's kind of a blur," he admitted rather weakly. "As soon as it sank in—that it wasn't just some kind of horrible nightmare—I realized I had to get out of there, in case they thought to look around. Not that a lot of people knew about Zechs and me—but I'm pretty sure Khushrenada did. So I slipped over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. It was raining, which probably helped cover the sound, and I went up onto the roof and took the stairs down to the first floor. I figured if I went out the front lobby they might have someone waiting who'd see me leave, or maybe stop me. So I jumped out a window at the end of the hall onto a dumpster in the alley, and I took off."

"Where did you go?"

"To a friend's apartment. I was afraid to go back to mine—in case Khushrenada's goons came looking to tie up any loose ends."

"And why didn't you go to the police?"

Duo gave him a withering look. "Do you know how powerful Treize Khushrenada is? I didn't think the cops would believe me if I tried to tell them he'd killed Zechs. And I was afraid if I went to them and he found out, he'd come after me next." He darted a glare in Khushrenada's direction. "And he did, didn't he?"

"Objection!" Septum called out curtly. "That's speculation, Your Honor. There's no proof that my client had anything to do with any attempts on Mister Maxwell's life."

"Sustained." The judge glanced over at the jury. "You will disregard that last statement."

She gave a warning look to Noventa, who passed it along to Duo.

"Can you tell me, briefly, how it is you came to be testifying in this case at all?"

Duo looked a bit off balance, but pulled himself back together well. "I—um—waited until payday and went to pick up my last check from my job, so I'd have money enough to leave town—but the cops found me there. They'd guessed that I might've seen what happened to Zechs, and wanted me to tell them—but I was sure if I did, my life wouldn't be worth sh—." He caught himself just in time. "I thought that somehow word would leak out, and someone would try to shut me up. So I refused to cooperate—until a couple of days later when I went to see my lawyer and someone blew up the car I came in."

Noventa nodded wisely. "As I recall, your attorney lost a valued employee and friend in that explosion?"

"Rashid," Duo said, his voice husky. "He was bringing the car around when it happened."

"And you were injured in the blast, were you not?"

"Yeah—just bruised and banged up." Duo gave a shrug. "I was lucky."

"So the close call was enough to convince you to cooperate with the police?"

"I didn't want anyone else to get hurt," Duo replied firmly. "After what happened to Rashid—I just couldn't stand to think of other people close to me getting killed if whoever blew up the car tried again." He gave a wry smile. "Besides, I don't think the cops would've let me walk away a second time." His warm gaze slid over to me, and I gave a very slight nod of agreement.

Damn straight I wouldn't have let him waltz off on his own again.

Noventa continued the questioning for a little bit longer, asking about things I thought were a bit trivial—like how long Duo had been employed at the club, and if Zechs had ever hinted that Treize might have reason to do him harm. But then, I already knew the answers, while the District Attorney had nothing to work with besides Duo's initial statement and his arrest record, until their all too brief session just prior to entering the courtroom. For him, there were probably a whole lot of blanks still waiting to be filled in.

He managed to drag out the testimony until it was just late enough that the judge would be unlikely to allow the cross-examination to begin. Then he thanked Duo for his time, and said he had no further questions at this time.

Judge Lake eyed my weary-looking lover, and then gave a quick thump of the gavel. "This court will adjourn for the day, and these proceedings will resume at nine o'clock tomorrow morning with Mister Maxwell back on the stand." She looked over at Noventa, her expression unreadable. "I assume you've made provisions for your witness' accommodations?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Good. See you in the morning." She made her exit, and then the rest of the courtroom began to empty.

As Duo stepped down from the stand, I crossed the room to stay between him and Khushrenada. I was partially shielding him from those malicious, sly eyes, and partially acting to keep him from making another scene.

But he didn't have that much fight left in him. When I got close, his shoulders slumped wearily, and it took a supreme act of will not to scoop him up in my arms.

"You did fine," I told him, my hands twitching with the urge to touch.

He nodded, sighing.

"He's right," came Noventa's curt tone. "You didn't get emotional up there, which is great. Juries don't tend to empathize with a weepy witness. It doesn't garner sympathy, and often makes them think it's an act. Your testimony was very—real."

Duo eyed him narrowly. "I wasn't putting on a show, Noventa. I just told them what happened the best I could."

"I know—and so did they." Noventa looked inordinately pleased. "Like I said, you were great up there."

Duo waved him off a bit impatiently. "Is there somewhere I can just crash, counselor? I'm fuckin' beat to Hell right now."

"I'll see about setting something up," Noventa replied. "We weren't sure you were coming—so there wasn't much of a plan made for sleeping quarters."

My lover yawned, leaning an arm across Chang's shoulder and slumping against him. "Jus' find me a horizontal surface, an' with Yuy and Chang to watch over me, I'll sleep like a baby."

Noventa eyed the three of us carefully. "You really trust these two, don't you?" he asked Duo.

"With my life. Repeatedly."

The District Attorney gestured us to follow as the last of the people slipped out of the room. "Let's go back to my office for now, and I'll arrange for a futon or a couple of couches to be brought in. I'm not sending you out of this building now that I've got you here. Until your cross-examination is completed, your testimony can be questioned. I'm not taking any chances."

I gave him a mildly amused look. "As if we'd let you?"

Chang chuckled beside me.


	57. Recess

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Seven: Recess

We made it back to Noventa's office without mishap, and Duo immediately took off the tie and suit coat, tossing them over the back of the chair before slumping wearily into it. I found myself fighting to keep from reaching over to massage his shoulders, wanting to take just a little of the weary resignation off his face. Instead, I picked up the jacket and hung it on a coat rack by the door.

"Would you like something to eat?" Wufei asked, sitting on the edge of the desk so he was facing my lover.

Duo looked up with a wan smile. "Maybe after my stomach settles down a bit. Bein' up there in front of the whole courtroom like that—kinda got it tied in knots."

Noventa gave a wry snort as he moved the files off his desk and into neat piles on the book shelf behind it. "Good thing you aren't a lawyer, Maxwell. You haven't got the nerves for it."

"Hey—he's got more guts than any ten lawyers!" Chang barked out sharply, causing the D.A. to look over at him in surprise. "If you had to go through half the shit we waded through to get here—!"

"Relax, detective," soothed the attorney, eyebrows raised at my partner's leap to Duo's defense. "I merely meant that if being in front of an audience unsettles his stomach, it's not the kind of career he'd be suited to."

Duo let loose a guffaw at that, laughing so hard he ended up doubled over in his seat.

I caught on quickly, and shared a smirk with Wufei. "Um, counselor—Duo used to work at a strip club, y'know. Took his clothes off to music in front of a roomful of cheering, drooling men. I don't think it's the audience he has trouble with."

Noventa flushed slightly in realization, looking uncomfortably down at his files. "Well—yes—I knew that. I just—hadn't given it much thought—in that way."

Duo wiped tears of hilarity off of his cheeks, gasping to regain his breath. "Ah, sorry boss," he chuckled at the D.A. "Just—haven't had a reason to laugh so hard in a while." He got himself back under control and straightened, looking a lot less haggard. "I don't mind bein' looked at—it's the _way _they look that makes the difference. Those folks in the court were looking for someone other than Duo Maxwell up there on the stand. And trying to be that person was what made it so hard."

The D.A. frowned at him, shaking his head. "But you _are _that person."

"Naw, I just put on a good show," Duo contradicted him. "You heard how many times I had to check myself before I said the wrong thing."

It was Noventa's turn to adopt a rather patronizing expression. "Just because you altered the language you used doesn't mean you were anything other than yourself up there on the stand. You came across as a decent young man who witnessed a horrible crime and surmounted incredible odds to get here to testify. And you are."

Duo flashed me a wink and a grin. "Told you I liked this guy, Yuy. He's a smooth-talker for sure." His indigo eyes fixed a more serious gaze on the lawyer. "The only part you got wrong there was the word 'decent.' You'd be a lot closer if you'd said 'indecent.'"

Noventa snorted disparagingly. "Maxwell—do you honestly think you're the worst witness I've ever had to present to a jury?"

"Well—." Duo hesitated, glancing at me for guidance.

I just shook my head and smiled. "You have no idea the kind of low-life scum Mister Noventa has had to drag testimony out of. Duo, you were easy."

Indeed, I'd seen some court cases where Noventa had to walk a minefield of questions in order to avoid leaving an opening for some of his less reputable witnesses to say the wrong thing. By comparison, Duo really _was _easy to interview. He was bright and articulate, despite his lack of formal education. And he was gorgeous. I didn't think anyone in the jury could have failed to see that. Between his looks and his natural charm, he could have had the jury eating out of his hand if he'd half tried.

Sometimes he just didn't realize how enchanting he could be.

Lucky for us.

"God, Yuy," he drawled, yawning widely. "This guy's almost got me believin' him."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," I chided. "But he's right. You're better than you give yourself credit for."

He grinned slyly. "That's what I've got you and Chang around for—to keep my ego fed."

"Speaking of feeding you," Wufei spoke up. "I'm going to see about rounding up some food. I thought perhaps a call to Winner might be in order. He could bring whatever kind of takeout you might like."

To my surprise, the D.A. didn't argue against admitting Quatre to the restricted levels of the courthouse. In fact, he looked pleased at the suggestion. "While you see about Maxwell's food, I could have a couple of security people move some couches in here from the lounge down the hall."

"Actually," I cut in. "Why don't we move Duo to the lounge? Keeping him in your office is a bit too predictable."

"Do you really think they'll try something here in the courthouse?"

"I'd put nothing past Khushrenada's people."

"But I already testified," Duo pointed out. "The harm is done, as far as Khushrenada cares."

"Yes, and no," Noventa cautioned. "While you did point the finger at Khushrenada, I still have to present the forensic evidence to back your account of what happened. And while we've got some, it wouldn't be enough to convict him without you."

"Yeah—but you already have me."

"We have your initial testimony. Tomorrow the defense will get to cross examine you. And they will try to make you look bad; they'll want you to appear foolish and unreliable. They'll bring up your criminal record, which you must downplay, as well as your troubled childhood and your career as a stripper." He gave my lover a stern look. "You are not to react to any insults or digs, Maxwell. It will just play into their hands if you do."

"I can let a few snide remarks slide, counselor."

"Even if they accuse you of lying?"

He gave a shrug. "'S not like I never have." At the narrowing of Noventa's eyes, he quickly added. "But I wasn't lying up there today. That was absolutely what happened."

The D.A. gave a quick nod. "Just say it like that if they make such an accusation. Say that what you told the court was exactly what happened."

"I can do that," Duo said with a relieved smile.

His stomach growled loudly, and he rubbed a hand across it, looking a bit sheepish. "I guess maybe those butterflies have settled down enough that I could eat something after all."

"I'll get right on it," Wufei offered, tugging me aside with him towards the door. "Don't tell Duo," he said in a quick whisper. "But I'm going to see if Captain Po can arrange for Winner to bring the food up himself…and possibly Barton and Catherine."

"Oh—that'd be good," I agreed, knowing how much Duo would enjoy the company of his friends. "And see if she can scrounge up a couple of blankets, and maybe some pillows."

"Chinese!" Duo called out. "Can you get Chinese food? I like that spicy chicken stuff with bits of broccoli, and the fried rice."

"I'll get that," Wufei told him. "What about you, Yuy?"

"You know me, Chang. I'll eat almost anything."

"Yes, but we're not on a stakeout here. We actually have a choice."

I slapped him on the shoulder. "Just get a variety and we'll all pass stuff around, assuming you can get permission for the others to join us."

"I'm sure I can." Wufei smiled brightly. "I'm very persuasive, when I want to be."

He nipped out the door and I went back to Duo, reflecting that Chang must have never wanted to be persuasive before in his life. _I _sure as hell had never seen it.

Noventa gathered some things into his briefcase, and snapped it shut. Then he looked across the desk at Duo. "I really should stay here tonight and make you practice responding to cross-examination…" he mused, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip.

Duo shook his head. "Counselor—I'm wiped out right now. Even if we practiced every possible scenario, it wouldn't stick." He cocked his head to one side. "'Sides—you look kinda wiped out yourself."

I studied Noventa's face, realizing the man had noticeable dark circles under his eyes, and a haggard look I'd never seen before. "You were really stressing out about us getting him here, weren't you?" I asked quietly.

He nodded, running a hand over his eyes. "As I said, the forensic evidence alone would not be enough. And I very much want to put Treize Khushrenada away for murder."

"Then we're all on the same page," I noted, getting an affirmative nod from Duo. "Good. Go ahead home, counselor. Get a good night's rest, and we'll try to do the same."

"All right. Let me show you to the lounge, and give you a list of emergency numbers, if there's any trouble here tonight. Security's tight, and there will be guards at all entrances and exits. Your Captain and Agent Alexander have people from both agencies here; whether it's just a territorial dispute, or a lack of trust between organizations, that's how they ended up settling the matter. Plus, there are regular courthouse security people." He gave a derisive snort. "We've got security overseeing other security—a waste of resources—but it ensures there's no opportunity for any one of them to try anything."

Duo smiled cheerfully at him. "Sure I'm worth all this trouble?"

"You're worth it," Noventa admitted rather grudgingly, holding the door open for Duo and me to precede him.

My lover grabbed his jacket and tie, and strutted rather cockily along, giving the lawyer a perfectly adorable little smirk as he passed.

I made sure I was one step ahead of him, staying close enough to throw myself in front of a bullet, again, if necessary.

And when we got to the room labeled "lounge," I went in first and did a quick survey of the area. There were cupboards and a coffee machine in one corner—and I opened every single one, not caring if the D.A. thought I was paranoid.

I'd be damned if I'd have someone leap out of a closet or cabinet at this late juncture.

I checked the attached bathroom thoroughly, and even went so far as to open the refrigerator and the microwave oven. You just never knew where someone could hide a bomb.

The lounge also had two long sofas, a coffee table, and three overstuffed chairs—plenty of places for us to stretch out and get some rest.

"Anything I can get you before I leave?" asked Noventa, watching as Duo walked over and face-planted on the larger of the two couches.

"I think Chang will see to our needs," I told him. "I told him we could use a couple of blankets and pillows, if possible—but in a pinch, we've made do with less."

The D.A. gave me a long, assessing look. "I don't believe I've said thank you for bringing my witness here safe and sound, have I?" He held out a hand.

I smiled, shaking the proffered hand. "You're very welcome."

He gave a curt nod, and headed out the door, and I pulled it closed, turning to see Duo on his back on the couch, giving me a sly smile. "Alone at last." He sat up and held out a hand.

I sauntered over to him, and leaned in to place a quick kiss on his lips. Then I pushed him against the back of the couch and went around behind it so I could settle my hands on his shoulders and massage the tight muscles. "I've wanted to do this for hours," I admitted, loving the way he relaxed under my touch.

"Mmm…I've wanted you to do that," he concurred.

"How are you holding up?" I asked quietly, hoping he'd play it straight and not try to put on a brave front for me.

"I'm fuckin' beat," he sighed. "Just bein' up there—seeing that smug little sneer on Khushrenada's face—. It was hard."

"And you were great," I reiterated. "You'll be great tomorrow, too. Just try to be prepared for Septum or Tsubarov to pull something underhanded. They're known for sly tricks and sleazy defense tactics."

"Great."

"Who else do you think would defend someone like Khushrenada?" I worked a little harder on his shoulders and he gave a groan of pleasure; so I leaned in to place a teasing kiss on the side of his neck. "How 'bout I take your mind off it, hm?"

"God, yes," he hissed, tilting his head to give me further access. "You could make me forget my own name, 'Ro. When you do stuff like that—."

"Like this?" I ran a hand down to his lap, enjoying the way he arched into my touch.

"Wish we could just lock the door and have the rest of the night to ourselves," he sighed. "But I guess that's out of the question."

Sadly, he was right. And how odd that his was the voice of reason. Chang would be back with our supper long before I could indulge in all I wanted to with my lover.

I climbed over the back of the couch and drew him into my arms, knowing I might not get the chance again any time soon. "Listen, love. Much as I hate to bring up an unpleasant subject, we do need to talk about tomorrow."

He gave a whine of protest, trying to snuggle his head under my chin. "Don't wanna."

"Yeah, but we have to—and I waited for Noventa to leave on purpose. He didn't seem to pick up on the fact that in the hallway you called me your boyfriend. But Relena certainly did."

Duo looked up in alarm. "Is she going to make trouble for you—?"

"Not right now," I assured him. "She's got troubles of her own." I paused, not sure I wanted to bring it to Duo's attention that Zechs' sister had been the one to incite Khushrenada's wrath and then turn around and let the bastard blackmail her into sabotaging our case.

I heard a slight squeak and realized my arms had tightened painfully around Duo. "Need t'breathe, Yuy!" he gasped, taking a big gulp of air as I loosened my grip.

"Sorry. I just—I think you shouldn't mention anything to Noventa about knowing Relena was Zechs' sister."

Duo snorted into my shirt. "Yeah, that's a laugh—Zechs having relatives on the force." His breathing stilled for a moment, and then he pushed back, looking up at me warily. "Was _that _why Khushrenada thought Zechs was going to the cops—why he _killed _him? Because someone saw him with _her_?"

"I—don't know," I said hesitantly. Although I'd said pretty much the same thing to Relena, I didn't want to confirm it for Duo. And I didn't want to rule out other possibilities. "It may be that someone saw Zechs and Relena together—or it could have been something else entirely."

"Right," he said in disbelief. "You an' I both know Zechs Merquise wouldn't have been meeting with any cops. So if Khushrenada thought he did—she's the only reason."

"Probably."

"Fuckin' bitch!" he stormed, getting up and pacing restlessly across the room. He turned to face me, eyes troubled. "What's her problem anyway?"

"I don't know where to start," I sighed. "But when she found out about her brother, she wanted to meet him. And as naïve as she sometimes is, I'm sure it never occurred to her that they'd be seen together, or that someone would know she worked at the precinct and read more into it than a simple lunch."

"They had lunch together?"

I frowned at him and cocked my head. "How much did Zechs tell you about her, anyway?"

"When he finally got me to listen, he said she was his sister and that she'd just found out he existed and wanted to meet him. That was it. He said she wouldn't be back—that although she was family, they were far too different to even stay in touch." Duo frowned thoughtfully. "He didn't mention they'd gone out to lunch—that they spent that much time. I just thought she stopped by the penthouse."

"Does that bother you?"

"Naw," he shrugged. "Not really. I mean, since I know he was tellin' the truth about who she was, I guess that's all that matters."

"Well, if it's any consolation, my boss has officers out looking for her. She tampered with evidence from the crime scene to hide the fact that she'd been there—and—she also was the one who leaked information on our whereabouts to Khushrenada."

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "But why? Why would Zechs' sister help the bastard who killed him?"

"To hide the fact that Zechs Merquise was indirectly related to Chief Darlian." I gave a shrug. "Apparently Une discovered the connection, and threatened to bring it to the attention of the media if Relena didn't help them monitor Captain Po's communications."

"Fuckin' Hell!" Duo spat in frustration. "First she screws with me an' Zechs—and makes it look like he sold out the syndicate—and then she helps the fuckers who killed him try to shut up the only witness!"

I got up and walked over, putting my arms around him from behind. "Don't dwell on it, love," I whispered. "She'll get what's coming to her, I promise. Even being the Chief's daughter won't protect her from the charges we'll be able to bring against her."

Duo sighed and relaxed back into me. "Good," he murmured, sounding incredibly weary. "I just want this over with, 'Ro. I want to know that Zechs can rest in peace, and that the people responsible for his death will get what they deserve."

"They will. I swear to you. I won't rest until they do."

He turned to face me, sliding his arms up around my neck and kissing me so deeply that I felt like I could live forever on just that contact. I'd never felt so complete in my life.

"I love you so much," I breathed when he gave me a chance to.

"I know. I can see it in your eyes—an' feel it when you touch me," he whispered. "It makes me feel fuckin' invincible." He drew back and looked very seriously at me. "You know if it hadn't been for you, I'd have never been able to get through all this."

I smirked teasingly at him. "Sure you would. Chang could've kept you alive and on track."

"But he couldn't have put all the pieces back together so I wanted to keep going. And he couldn't have made me feel like there really _is _life after Zechs." His eyes glowed warmly with affection and, obviously, love. "I have never been this happy my whole life, 'Ro. Ever."

Well—if _that_ wasn't a humbling thing to hear.

No one had ever suggested that being with me was the high point of their life. But hearing it from Duo reassured me that I wasn't the only one who felt like they'd suddenly been handed everything they ever wanted.

"When this is over, I'm going to make sure you stay just as happy for the rest of your life. Whatever it takes."

"It just takes you," he said without missing a beat.

"Oh, good God—!" came an exasperated voice from the door. "Don't you ever stop with the sap?"

Chang shoved the door wide, and walked in carrying a big paper bag. Close behind him were Winner, Barton, and of course, Catherine, each of them with arms full of supplies.

Duo lit up at once, though he didn't pull away from me to run greet them. And that was a wonderful feeling, too.

"Hey—how'd you all get permission to come up here?" he asked brightly.

"I'm your lawyer," Quatre shrugged, setting down the six-pack he'd brought along. "And it didn't take much coaxing to convince Captain Po that you'd be safer and happier with a few friends around this evening."

I ushered Duo over to the table, determined to see that he ate a decent meal.

"I also brought you a change of clothes," Quatre told him. "You'll wear the same suit—but I brought clean socks and stuff." Apparently he'd been busy, anticipating a chance to provide for his client.

"Underwear, I hope," Duo drawled snidely. "You forgot 'em this morning."

"Sorry."

Trowa eyed Duo's lap with a raised eyebrow. "Going commando, Shini?"

"You know it. And trust me—it ain't comfortable in these slacks."

"Well, feel free to get out of them," Quatre suggested, pulling a pair of sweatpants out of one bag and tossing them to Duo. "I brought sweats and tee shirts for all three of you. I doubt that Noventa had time to consider such amenities. But Duo can't sleep in the suit he'll be wearing on the stand again, and I figure the two cops who got him here alive deserved better than to sleep in their clothes."

Damn, but the man was thoughtful. If he kept this up, I'd have to revise my opinion of lawyers even more.

We took turns changing and washing up in the attached bathroom, and then settled in to eat, having had nothing since breakfast, when we'd all been too anxious and tense to stomach much of anything.

"So—what was it like on the witness stand?" Catherine asked Duo, her concerned gaze on his face. I think she could see the fatigue etched across it as easily as I had.

"Kinda uncomfortable," he said around a mouthful of fried rice. "Between the judge lookin' all serious and stern, and Khushrenada glaring at me, I felt like a bug under a microscope…a bug nobody liked."

"The jury seemed to like you," Quatre noted.

"Why d'you say that?"

"Their expressions. When the court camera was on them, they seemed genuinely affected by your testimony."

"He's right," Wufei agreed. "I watched them, and there were several who seemed quite sympathetic. When you talked about the shooting and climbing out the window in the rain—I swear a couple of the women wanted to run over and hug you."

"I know I did," I muttered, not looking up from my meal.

Duo elbowed me, and when I looked up he dropped a quick kiss on my lips. "Love you, too," he said teasingly.

It seemed to be getting easier for him to say it—though I had a feeling I'd never grow tired of hearing it.

I found myself grinning into my container of food.

"Yes—the jury found you very believable," Quatre assured Duo. "All you have to do tomorrow is keep your cool and not let Tsubarov goad you into saying too much. Keep your answers short and simple."

"Yeah, Noventa said the same thing," Duo told him. "And he said they'll try to make me look bad or lose my temper. But I won't."

I glanced up to see Wufei frown a bit doubtfully. "Don't underestimate Tsubarov, Maxwell. He's brutal on cross-examination."

Oh. Now that he mentioned it, I recalled a trial several months back, when Chang and I had been testifying against a drug dealer. Tsubarov had forced Chang to practically accuse me of police brutality while on the stand. And though my partner had staunchly tried to defend my use of excessive force, in the end the jury let the guy walk—or should I say "hobble on crutches?"

Yeah, I'd been a bit overzealous on that one. But even so, the guy had been guilty as sin. And Tsubarov got him a free pass, because I hadn't followed procedure.

Chang hadn't talked to me for a week, and even now he cast a rather accusing gaze at me.

"Sorry," I muttered, for perhaps the hundredth time on that subject.

"Hm?" Duo looked between us, frowning in confusion.

"Chang once got picked apart on the stand by Tsubarov because I broke a perp's leg," I admitted.

Duo's quick glance slipped back to my partner. "Aw—did the big, bad defense attorney make Wuffers cry?"

"No, he did not!" Wufei said crisply. "But he made me admit that Yuy was too rough with a drug-dealing lowlife who deserved whatever he got. And he twisted my words until it sounded like the opposite of what I was trying to say. He's a snake, Maxwell. Be careful."

Quatre nodded in agreement. "I don't want to scare you, Duo. But Tsubarov is not to be underestimated."

"Okay," Duo conceded. "I'll watch what I say. I'll do my best to not let him get to me."

"That's all you can do," the blonde agreed.

"All right—change of subject!" Trowa spoke up suddenly. "Duo doesn't need to dwell on tomorrow. How about we discuss whether any of you took pictures of him once you had him dressed up?"

"Ah, no," I admitted. "No pictures."

Duo glared at his ex-lover. "Not everyone's a perv like you, Tro'."

"And besides," Wufei threw in with an innocent look on his face. "We didn't have a camera—although maybe we could get the security tapes from the courthouse—."

"I am _not_ a perv," asserted Trowa, returning Duo's glare. Then he smirked irrepressibly. "Well, no more than you are. But, fuck—you look good in a dress!"

The indigo eyes narrowed. "Maybe you would, too. I think next time _you _should wear the sequins and lace."

Quatre eyed Trowa speculatively, and then shook his head. "No, Duo. I'm pretty sure Trowa just hasn't got the curves for it."

Trowa looked slightly affronted, and interestingly enough, Duo looked even more affronted. "If you're tryin' to say I'm built like a girl, Winner—."

"No! You just—looked really nice as one."

"Some day—," Duo threatened, shaking a spork in Winner's direction.

Trowa interrupted them, a faint pout on his lips. "Why wouldn't I look nice?"

Quatre had to backpedal rapidly, trying to explain how his lover's long, lean build just wouldn't fill out a skirt in the same way, while Duo kept butting in to insist that he did not have wider hips than the acrobat.

Chang and I exchanged a smile across the table, glad that the good-natured teasing was relieving the stressful atmosphere.

"We did it, Yuy. We got here," he said with a broad and genuine smile.

"So we did." I let my gaze drop to the hand Catherine had looped possessively around my partner's arm, and gave him a small nod of approval.

We were almost done with our meals before I knew it, the pleasant banter providing a level of stress relief I wouldn't have thought simple companionship could offer. It was amazing to me that for the first time in my life, I was enjoying being part of a group. And I owed all that to Duo.

"Fortune cookie time!" he sang out happily, grabbing a fistful of plastic-wrapped cookies from the last takeout bag, and passing them out.

"Maxwell—those are totally bogus," Wufei said with a bit of a sneer. "You know they're mass-produced, right? It's inconceivable that any fortune you get in one of them could actually be meaningful."

"Maybe not to you, Wuffers. But I've got a secret for making them _all _more interesting."

Trowa was smirking again, obviously knowing what Duo was talking about.

"And what's your big secret?" asked my partner, rolling his eyes at Duo's antics.

"Simple. You add the words 'in bed' after the fortune." My lover quickly unwrapped his cookie and broke it, pulling out the slip of paper before popping the halves of the cookie into his mouth. "See—?" he mumbled between crunches. "Mine says: Everybody feels lucky for having you as a friend."

"—in bed!" he and Trowa cried out together, bursting into delighted laughter.

"Wow—that's perfect for you!" Trowa teased.

"What's yours?" Duo asked him.

Trowa hastily broke into his own fortune, chuckling as he read the slip. "Your dreams will come true."

"—in bed," Duo added helpfully. "Wow—lucky sonofabitch." He eyed me speculatively. "How 'bout yours, 'Ro? We gettin' lucky any time soon?"

I sighed, reluctantly opening my cookie and pulling out the little slip of paper. "You will convict Treize Khushrenada of first degree murder," I read with a totally straight face.

Duo did a double-take before he realized the joke, and then he burst out laughing, along with everyone else. "Shit, 'Ro! Add the words 'in bed' at the end! It's hilarious!"

I had to admit, convicting Treize Khushrenada of first degree murder—in bed—was kind of amusing.

And while I contemplated that, Duo yanked the paper from my fingers and read it out loud. "You should be able to undertake and complete anything." He grinned wickedly. "Damn straight!" He didn't even _have _to bother adding "in bed."

Catherine's cookie said "A woman's thinking is quicker than her actions," which elicited a merciless ribbing from both Duo and Trowa. And Chang's fortune was "Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life."

In bed? I wasn't sure I saw the point to that one. Why would the universe care what you did in bed?

But it made us all laugh some more.

Quatre's fortune was "Take the chance while you still have the choice," which certainly seemed to fit the kind of luck that had brought him together with Trowa.

And after we'd all opened our cookies and joked about the fortunes and what adding the phrase "in bed" seemed to do to them, we spread out around the room. Duo and I were on one couch, while Wufei and Catherine took another, and Quatre and Trowa settled on the floor by the coffee table, bringing out a deck of cards to start a game that involved slapping a hand down on the pile of cards whenever a jack was turned up.

It didn't take long at all before Duo was stretched out with his head in my lap, snoring peacefully while the others carried on their quiet activities.

But the moment Quatre realized he was down for the count, he stood and gathered up the cards. "I think we should be going," he whispered, nodding towards Trowa and Catherine.

I nodded back, carefully slipping out from under Duo, and tucking a pillow under his head. "Will you be back in the morning?"

"As soon as court resumes. Your Captain was kind enough to get us passes for inside the courtroom."

"Duo will like that," I said with confidence, sure he'd find it a pleasant surprise to have a few friends that close at hand during his cross-examination. And I thanked the lawyer for his efforts as I showed our three guests to the door and locked it securely behind them.

Wufei was wrapping up the last of the takeout when I pattered over to the kitchen area in my stocking feet.

"I'll take first watch," he volunteered. "I think you should stay close to Duo. He'll sleep better."

"Is there a blanket in one of those bags Winner brought along?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." He went and pulled it out, while I crunched up the empties and stuffed them into the trash.

I found myself holding a leftover fortune cookie, and couldn't resist popping it open to find the message. "The pleasure of what we enjoy is lost by wanting more," I read quietly.

Wufei raised an eyebrow and smirked at me. "—in bed?"

I smirked back. "Doesn't matter with that one. I have all I could ever want. So I guess I won't lose the pleasure of what I enjoy." My gaze slid over to my slumbering lover.

"Go keep him warm," said my partner, giving me a firm shove in that direction. "He'll need to be at his best in the morning."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I shook out the blanket and spread it over Duo, tucking him in against the back of the couch and easing in next to him. It was a bit crowded, but judging from the way Duo snuggled up to my back and wrapped an arm around my waist, sighing against the nape of my neck, he didn't mind the close quarters.

I know I didn't, and I was asleep within minutes.


	58. Trial and Error

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Eight: Trial—and Error

The next morning found us once again in the courtroom, with Duo looking calm and composed as he took the witness stand.

He hadn't been nearly as composed an hour earlier, when he was practically puking in the bathroom from nerves.

Well, it wasn't as bad as all that. It was just that when he first woke up and realized where he was, and what the day had in store for him, he had a little trouble finding his balance.

Chang was the one who forced him to sit and slowly sip a cup of tea, while practicing breathing exercises he'd taught him back at the lake house.

And I was the one who fastened his tie, when his hands were shaking too badly to do it himself.

Noventa simply breezed in a half an hour before we were due in the courtroom and asked if Duo had any last-minute questions.

When Duo asked if he could fake a case of laryngitis, I don't think Noventa was remotely amused. He told us to get our asses into his office—pronto—and stalked back out.

Seizing the opportunity, I dragged Duo into the bathroom for a quick pep talk—taking my folded-up fortune that said "You should be able to undertake and complete anything" and tucking it into his breast pocket.

"There," I said with a reassuring smile. "You can borrow my fortune for today—to help you get through this."

He managed to dredge up a weak smile. "Not sure they're transferable, Yuy."

"Doesn't matter," I insisted. "I loaned it to you; therefore, it's yours for the day."

His smile got a little more confident, and so I leaned in to kiss it right off his face, taking my time and savoring the moan that escaped as I pulled him close.

"Now," I whispered, sliding my cheek along his. "You get out there and show those bastards you can take anything they dish out—okay? And we'll pick this up where we left off later."

"Promise?"

"The very minute you're finished, I'll make an excuse to get you alone," I assured him. "Hell, I think even Chang might help me with that—act as a diversion or something."

"He has mellowed a lot, hasn't he?" smirked my lover.

"Unbelievably," I agreed.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted our speculation. "If you two are done making out, I'm quite sure Noventa's pacing a hole in his carpet by now," came a snide voice.

"Okay, maybe not 'unbelievably'," I conceded.

Duo chuckled, regaining his color, and yanked open the door. "Admit it, Chang," he teased. "You're just jealous. Ever since you saw me in that dress—."

Yes, Duo Maxwell was back with a vengeance, and kept his upbeat and cocky attitude throughout the all too short meeting with Noventa. He even managed to carry it into the courtroom with him—and ended up looking very calm and very relaxed as he took the stand, and the defense team prepared to pick him apart.

I, on the other hand, was not so relaxed. It was as if Duo's nervousness had relocated into my stomach. Maybe it was just that I'd seen Tsubarov in action before—but I couldn't help feeling that we'd led Duo like a lamb to the slaughter.

From my seat between Wufei and Quatre, I watched Khushrenada's team conferring, crossing my fingers and hoping maybe Septum or Catalonia would carry on the cross-examination. But it was Tsubarov who stood and gathered his notes.

"_Mister_ Maxwell," the defense attorney began, putting a snide emphasis on the first word that instantly raised my hackles. I was impressed when Duo's face showed not a flicker of emotion. "At which of his establishments were you working when you met Zechs Merquise?"

"The Jungle."

"And what sort of club is that?"

"It's a gay bar," Duo said calmly.

"And would you be so kind as to tell the jury exactly what your job was at that 'gay bar'?"

"I was an exotic dancer."

The lawyer chuckled patronizingly. "You mean a _stripper_?"

Duo gave him an equally patronizing smile. "We prefer to be called exotic dancers—but yes, I suppose if you wanted to be crude, you could say I was a stripper."

Oh—point for Duo! I was proud of him for getting in the first dig.

"Speaking of crude, what was your job before you went to work at The Jungle?"

"I didn't have one."

"Ever?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't need one," Duo shrugged.

"You didn't? How did you eat? Where did you live?"

"I grew up in an orphanage."

"—not a foster family?"

"Actually, several—but none that lasted."

"Why not?"

At this point Noventa objected, asking how Duo's childhood was relevant to the case. Of course the defense attorney insisted that it pertained to "character," and that since the State's case hinged on Duo's testimony, his character was of utmost importance. And, as I expected, the judge allowed it.

"Answer his question, Mister Maxwell."

"I was a—difficult child, I guess," Duo shrugged.

"Very," agreed the attorney, glancing down at his clipboard. "Your first arrest was at age seven…for shoplifting. And then at eight, you beat up a classmate and…stole his lunch? At nine, you—."

"We'll stipulate to Mister Maxwell's criminal record," the District Attorney said quickly.

The judge eyed the defense attorney. "You've covered enough of that subject. Move on," she ordered curtly.

He nodded politely, giving an oily smile. "So, you were a troubled child, Mister Maxwell. What happened when you turned eighteen and left the orphanage?"

"I left when I was twelve," Duo admitted.

"And how did you survive then?" asked the lawyer, with feigned dismay.

"I lived with—friends."

"You mean the gang called—." The man shuffled through papers as if he didn't know exactly where he was going with this, and I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to go up there and throttle him. "Ah—the 'Reapers'?"

"Yes," Duo said simply, a brief flash of pain crossing his face at the mention of his dead friends.

"And weren't the Reapers used to move drugs for the syndicate?"

"Sometimes," Duo shrugged.

"So _you _helped transport illegal drugs."

"Sometimes."

"What else did you do?"

"Lots of stuff—a little breaking and entering—the occasional car theft—."

"I thought we agreed to stipulate to his criminal record!" the prosecutor said sharply, looking to the judge for support.

"Finish this line of questioning, Mister Tsubarov," warned the judge.

"Of course, Your Honor." He turned a sneering face towards Duo. "I'd just like to know _why_ you participated in those crimes."

"It beat the heck out of whoring," Duo said flatly, glaring back.

Well, _that _made a few jaws drop. I splayed a hand discreetly over my face, beginning to get a very bad feeling about where this was all headed.

"So you had a basis for comparison, eh?" taunted the defense attorney.

I thought Duo would explode at that, but aside from a narrowing of the indigo eyes, he kept his composure remarkably well. Noventa, on the other hand, looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

"Not personally," Duo said coolly. "But I saw what it did to other kids, and I'd have done anything to avoid it."

"Anything, hm?" The attorney made a few notes on his clipboard. Then he looked at Duo with narrowed eyes. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I asked if you'd do _anything_?"

"I already said I would," Duo replied, looking confused.

"Would you kill?"

Duo's jaw dropped, and the prosecutor jumped to his feet. "Your Honor! The defense is on a tangent here that has nothing to do with this case. And the question calls for speculation on the part of the witness—how could anyone know what they'd do or not do under the right circumstances?"

The defense attorney turned to the judge with an earnest expression on his face. "Your Honor—this _does _have a point, I assure you."

"You may continue—but you'd better get to that point fast."

"Mister Maxwell—you claim my client killed Zechs Merquise, and that you witnessed it. Isn't it just as possible that _you _were the one who killed him? That you did it because he was trying to recruit you to be a prostitute at one of the underground brothels he owned in the city?"

The indigo eyes were practically bugging out of Duo's head. "I don't know what the _hell _you're talking about," he snarled, losing the composure he'd been keeping so well. "Zechs didn't own any brothels—and he never, ever suggested I become a whore."

"No? Wasn't sleeping with the man who paid your wages pretty much the same thing?"

Duo was on his feet in a flash, and the judge was banging her gavel for order as two bailiffs hastily moved towards my braided lover. "Sit _down_, Mister Maxwell!"

How the hell did the defense attorney find out that Duo was touchy about being called a prostitute?

"Sit down!" thundered the judge again, and I caught Duo's eyes and gave him a small, tight smile and a nod. _Just do as she says._

He slowly sank back into his seat as things settled down in the courtroom.

The judge eyed him dangerously. "Mister Maxwell, you will refrain from swearing in this courtroom, and you will remain in your seat! Do I make myself clear?"

Duo gave her a resentful scowl. "Yes, ma'am."

Then the judge glared at the defense attorney. "And _you_, Mister Tsubarov, will refrain from baiting the witness. You _will _keep your line of questioning on the testimony at hand, and not stray into irrelevant territory. Understood?"

"Certainly, Your Honor," he said with smug satisfaction. He'd gotten what he wanted anyway. Duo had been shaken—and he now sat rigidly tense in his seat, fiddling with the end of the braid in his lap, and occasionally glancing at me or the D.A. for reassurance.

Noventa looked a little sick, and I wanted to smack him a good one and tell him to stop showing the jury that he thought the defense had discredited Duo's testimony sufficiently.

Tsubarov approached Duo again, braving a perfectly vicious look from those narrowed indigo eyes. "Could you please answer that last question, _Mister _Maxwell?"

"If you answer one for me," Duo said icily. "If you're paid to make sure Khushrenada 'gets off,' doesn't that make you a whore too?"

Again there was an outburst of voices and the room erupted into chaos, the judge banging her gavel for order, and the spectators talking loudly among themselves. Khushrenada was actually laughing, giving Duo an almost appreciative look that made me want to put a bullet right between the crime lord's eyes. I don't know if he was amused by the comment, or by the fact that Duo's credibility with the jury was in serious jeopardy, and I didn't much care. He was a murderer—and that was all that mattered to me.

"Your Honor—if I could have a moment with the witness—?" the D.A. asked desperately.

She finally got control of the courtroom again, and gestured to both the prosecution and the defense. "I want you both in my chambers immediately."

I saw a hint of a smirk touch Duo's lips, and I knew he was biting his tongue to keep from making a suggestive comment about what might go on in the judge's chambers. But he ducked his head, staring fixedly at his shoes and clearly regaining control of his sense of humor.

"Mister Maxwell," the judge added, giving him a look that could have curdled milk.

He looked up from under his bangs—the very picture of a naughty child who's trying to make the stern adult think he's truly contrite, when he's not feeling contrite at all. I wondered if she'd see through the act, or fall for his charm. "Yes, Your Honor?"

Her expression softened just a fraction, and I scratched my nose to hide a grin. "You are the witness—not the attorney. He's to ask the questions, and you are to provide the answers, to the best of your ability. You are not to ask questions in return—nor should you take his questions personally. Keep your answers short and sweet, and refrain from further editorializing, or I'll have you removed from the stand. Am I clear?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Your Honor." He sounded genuine enough, though I had my doubts.

The judge called a short recess, and took the two attorneys to her chambers for a lecture. I'd hoped for a moment with Duo, but a bailiff escorted him to the witness room off to one side, and stood by the door to make sure he stayed put.

Quatre's face was a cross between amusement and concern, when he turned towards me. "Relax, Heero—it's not as bad as it looked."

"That fucking bastard Tsubarov got him swearing on the stand," I pointed out.

"Yes, but the jury could see that it was deliberate harassment. It made Tsubarov look just as bad."

"But he's not the one whose word they've got to believe."

"They'll believe Duo. His reactions are genuine and unaffected. He just exudes sincerity. And even his lapse in behavior was minor, and understandable under the circumstances. If anything, I think it humanized him for the jurors."

"I hope so," I said through gritted teeth. "Or I may have to show Tsubarov a genuine, unaffected reaction of my own!"

Quatre chuckled quietly. "Stay calm, Heero. You're Duo's anchor right now. Did you notice he looked at you whenever he was feeling pressured or distressed?"

"Yes—and it just about killed me not to be able to go up there and help him."

"You helped him just by being here—just by making eye contact. He trusts you and relies on you."

"I know. I just don't want to let him down."

"I don't think you could."

All too quickly the attorneys returned, and the bailiff led Duo back to the stand.

As soon as the judge came back in and order was called again, we all took our seats and Tsubarov made his slimy way up to the front of the room again, facing Duo with the same hostile expression as before.

"So—you'd like us to believe you saw my client kill Zechs Merquise," he continued. "But tell me, Mister Maxwell, did you make any attempt to stop the alleged crime?"

"Alleged—?" Duo started to ask, before glancing at the judge and realizing he wasn't supposed to counter a question with a question. "No, I didn't," he said, glaring at the lawyer. "There were four people out there with Zechs, and I saw at least two guns. I had nothing on me but a few knives. The odds were against me—so, _no _I did not make any attempt to stop the very _real_ crime. All I could do was watch, and then run like he—heck."

I saw a faint twitch of the judge's lips, as if she was pleased by his careful attempt to obey her prior orders.

"Did you go to the police to report the 'very real crime' you say you witnessed?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like cops," Duo said flatly. "They've never been particularly pleasant to me."

"So you didn't really care if your lover's murderer got away with it?"

"Sure I did. But Zechs always said that Khushrenada had cops on the payroll. I couldn't trust any of them."

The attorney sighed and turned a long-suffering look on the judge. "Your Honor—I move to strike that last comment. Hearsay. And Merquise isn't here to verify the claim that my client was bribing police officers."

The judge nodded. "The jury will disregard that last answer."

"So, am I correct in assuming that you had no intention of reporting the crime you witnessed?"

"Yes."

"Why did you?"

"Because the cops found me when I went to pick up my last paycheck," Duo admitted.

Tsubarov looked down at his notes and a slow, arrogant smirk spread across his lips. "Your paycheck from—The Sanc Palace?"

"Yes."

"And when the police found you there, what did you do?"

"I ran."

"Why?"

"Like I said, I don't like cops. And I wasn't sure whose side they were on."

Noventa seemed to be tiring of whatever game Tsubarov was playing. He called out yet another objection, citing the irrelevance of the questions being asked. "—and considering Mister Maxwell's prior experience with the police, it's natural that he'd avoid them."

But Tsubarov forestalled the judge's ruling by holding up a hand. "I'm finished with this line of questioning, Your Honor. I just want to ask Mister Maxwell a few more simple questions—that have nothing to do with his criminal record or his reasons for fleeing from the police."

She eyed him warily. "You may proceed, providing you limit your questions to those pertaining directly to the matter at hand."

"Absolutely." Tsubarov exchanged a glance with Khushrenada, who smirked knowingly, and then turned to face Duo. "Do you have a temper, Mister Maxwell?"

"Your Honor—!" Noventa yelped in outrage.

"Tsubarov!" the judge warned.

"Your Honor, I'm not trying to bait the witness, I promise. He displayed a certain volatility before that lends credence to a statement I was given by a co-worker…a Miss Hilde Schbeiker."

_Her_ again! I clenched my fists at my sides, wishing I had her by the throat. Now I knew who was to blame for Tsubarov knowing Duo didn't like being called a whore. And I wondered what the hell else she might have told him.

"I'd like to enter her statement into evidence, with the Court's permission." He handed a document to the judge, who glanced over it with a raised eyebrow, before passing it to Noventa and nodding for Tsubarov to continue.

He fixed a piercing look on my lover. "Do you recall an altercation you had with Zechs Merquise about a week prior to his death, Mister Maxwell?"

Duo looked at him blankly for a moment, and then shrugged slightly. "Altercation?"

"According to Miss Schbeiker, you and Mister Merquise had a rather violent encounter in the hallway outside her dressing room at Sanc."

Duo's eyes widened in realization, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Tsubarov continued before he could.

"He came to the club and confronted you about a prior disagreement. Miss Schbeiker quoted you as saying he was a 'cheating, two-timing bastard,' and then shoving him. She furthermore said he shoved back, and then you punched him, slammed him against the wall and said 'if you don't stay the fuck away from me, I'll kill you.' Do you recall making that statement, _Mister _Maxwell?"

_Holy fucking shit!_

The courtroom burst into murmurs of surprise, and Duo's face drained of color as Noventa turned an accusing gaze on him.

"Order!" demanded the judge, banging her gavel hard. "Quiet down!"

Noventa was on his feet by then. "Your honor—if we could have a brief recess?"

The murmurs hadn't subsided, and the judge banged her gavel again. "Fifteen minute recess," she declared, standing and stalking off to her chambers.

* * *

Noventa didn't waste a moment, but turned on Duo, gesturing him to follow. I was about to join them uninvited, when the D.A. shot a scathing look at me and waved me along. Chang was right behind me, and I was grateful for his presence; he could have easily deserted the sinking ship, but instead chose to stand with me for the dressing down we were about to get.

We made record time down that hallway, and when we got there Noventa all but shoved Duo into the small office, and then pushed him into a chair, standing towering over him. "What the fuck was _that_, Maxwell?"

"What?" Duo demanded, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"That—_debacle _out there!" The DA's eyes were practically aflame with anger. "Did you not think it important to let me know you'd have a fight with Merquise a week before his death?"

"Well—no," Duo said in a small voice, looking uncomprehendingly at the irate man.

"No?" Noventa echoed.

Duo shook his head and shrugged.

Noventa rounded on me. "What's your excuse, Yuy—Chang? Or do you want to plead ignorance as well?"

At least I knew what he was talking about, though Duo remained clueless. "Look, counselor, Maxwell was a witness, not a suspect."

"And when did he make that transition? According to your Captain, she was prepared to have you book him when you first brought him in. He was a suspect _then_, wasn't he?"

"Briefly."

"And you didn't think to question his acquaintances—check for an alibi or motive?"

"We didn't really have time," Wufei piped up. "We'd barely gotten to interview Khushrenada before the attempt on Maxwell's life—and once that happened we knew for sure he was a witness rather than a suspect."

"You didn't know shit!" Noventa thundered.

Duo frowned, apparently not liking the verbal tongue-lashing Chang and I were receiving. "Hey, what's the big deal?" he cut in, leaning forward in his chair. "So Zechs and I had a little spat. So what? It has nothing to do with my witnessing his murder."

"No—but it has plenty to do with motive!"

Duo's jaw dropped. "What the fuck?" he blurted in outrage. "Are you saying you think _I_ killed Zechs?"

"No—but the defense team is! And if they convince the jury it's even an outside possibility, we'll never get a conviction against Khushrenada."

"That's not true!" I interrupted; angered by the stricken look Noventa had put on Duo's face. "There's plenty of forensic evidence to support Duo's story."

"And just as much to place him at the scene of the crime! All we had going in his favor was a lack of motive—and that's gone now."

"What about means?" I demanded. "He doesn't own a gun."

"Not legally," Noventa retorted. "And since we never found the murder weapon at all, it's a moot point who it belonged to." He rubbed his face with both hands, muttering in frustration as he stalked to the other side of his desk. Then he pulled himself together and glared across at Duo. "Talk to me, Maxwell. Tell me about the fight with Merquise."

Duo hesitated, obviously angry at Noventa's accusing tone. His dark eyes slid my way, asking for—something.

"Go ahead, Duo," I urged gently, resisting the impulse to step up behind his chair and massage his shoulders soothingly. I had to let my voice do the job. "Just—explain it to Attorney Noventa, and we can clear it up for the jury when you're back on the stand."

Duo drew a deep breath, and visibly pulled himself together. "Okay." He cast a defiant look at the D.A. "About a week before the murder, I went to the penthouse to surprise Zechs. He'd been working long hours, and I was gonna cook him dinner." I found myself smiling at the image of him surprising the crime lord with a little home cooked meal. It was—sweet.

"Anyhow, when I got off the elevator, I saw him hugging some blonde chick outside the door of his apartment. I kinda went off on him—called him some names, cussed him out, and took off." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "He called me all night, but I wouldn't answer, and then he showed up at Sanc the next evening wanting to talk. I told him off right there in the hallway—called him a fucking cheater and a few other choice things—and told him to leave me alone."

"Did you threaten to kill him?"

Duo shrugged, looking genuinely uncertain. "I might've. Honestly—I don't remember what I said to him. Maybe I said if he didn't stay the hell away from me, I'd kill him. But I just don't know."

"Well apparently witnesses at Sanc remembered what you said—and it _did _include a death threat."

"I didn't _mean _it," Duo said earnestly. "God, Noventa—I was hurt and pissed. I'd seen the guy I loved holding some woman in his arms. In that situation, wouldn't you say stupid shit you didn't mean?"

Noventa rolled his eyes. "Of course I might. _Anyone _might. But the point is, you didn't tell me about the argument, and now the defense can use that to tear down your story."

"I didn't _tell _you because you never asked me," Duo retorted, scowling. "And frankly, after Zechs got killed, it just slipped my mind altogether."

Noventa's baleful gaze turned to me. "You didn't do your homework, Yuy."

"I—guess not," I sighed, knowing that he was more or less right. When we first apprehended Duo at the Sanc Palace, we'd had every opportunity to look into a potential motive. But I'd already been convinced he was a witness.

I recalled Wufei wanting to consider him a suspect a lot longer than I had, and thought that if I'd given in, maybe we would have dug deeper and uncovered this land mine before Khushrenada's people did.

Then again, the longer we treated Duo as a suspect, the longer he'd have been at risk. And in all likelihood, Khushrenada's assassins would have succeeded in silencing him forever.

"In our defense," I said quietly, after exchanging a quick glance with my partner, "we had to move very fast in order to secure Duo's testimony, _and _his safety. While interviewing co-workers might have turned up this information, it would also have drawn Khushrenada's attention straight to Duo—and we wouldn't be here right now having this discussion. We'd be fishing Duo out of some river and writing Merquise's death off as a cold case."

Noventa perked up at that, and made a few notes on his blotter. "You make a good point," he conceded. "If I can sell that to the jury—make them focus on the urgency of safeguarding a potential witness—maybe they'll forget the sloppy police work and stay fixated on how lethal and ruthless Khushrenada is."

Duo smirked lopsidedly at me. "Good save, Yuy," he teased. He looked at Noventa with less venom. "Honestly, counselor, if it had occurred to me that anyone even remembered our silly little spat, I'd have explained it before." His face went a little pensive, and his eyes distant. "The night Zechs was murdered, we'd just gotten back together."

God, I wanted to go to him—but with the D.A. standing there making notes and half-listening, there was no way.

"Why did you take him back?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"He wore me down," Duo admitted. "He kept coming around until I had to listen, and then he explained that the girl was his long-lost sister…that she'd only found out about him when she turned eighteen, and had been trying to track him down and meet him ever since."

"And you believed him?" snorted Noventa.

Duo shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I s'pose you think he was lying," he said rather petulantly.

Noventa glanced up over his glasses. "Does it matter? The man's dead."

"It matters to me," Duo insisted. "I know Zechs is just a case to you—a chance to up your conviction rate and gain the prestige of putting away Treize Khushrenada. But he was my lover—and yeah, I'd like to think I knew him well enough to know when he was telling the truth."

His gaze slid towards me, and I could tell he wanted to tell Noventa that he'd been right to believe Zechs—that meeting Relena at the courthouse confirmed it.

I even started to open my mouth, but just then Noventa gave a curt nod, finishing up his notes, and gesturing to the door. "Now that I know the details of your altercation with Merquise, let's go back in there and explain it to the jury so that they can relegate it to irrelevant information, where it belongs, shall we?"

Duo got up, walking over and standing beside me—almost touching. I could feel a faint tremor in the hand that brushed across one of mine.

"So, you think you can still salvage his testimony?" I asked the D.A. frankly.

"If he tells it like he just did, I think so," came the rather weary reply. He glanced searchingly at Duo. "No more surprises?"

My lover appeared to seriously consider the question, biting his lip thoughtfully. "I don't think so. I mean, they know about my record—and what I did for work. There's nothing much else they can dig up."

Wufei cleared his throat uneasily. "Yuy—you'd better tell him about Relena's part in all this," he said quietly. "No more surprises."

Noventa shot me a suspicious glare. "Detective?"

"Uh—well, actually, there is a bit more to the story," I admitted. "The blonde that Duo saw in Merquise's arms was Relena Darlian."

Noventa's jaw dropped and his glare intensified. "Relena Darlian was Zechs Merquise's long-lost sister?"

I nodded. "Chang and I found out at the start of the investigation. We spoke to Chief Darlian about it, and at the time, he didn't know she'd ever made contact with Merquise. Supposedly her mother hadn't told her about her previous marriage or the fact that she had a half-brother. It was only yesterday that I found out she'd been to see him."

"Jesus fucking Christ! How much more are you people hiding from me?"

"We weren't hiding it, exactly," I told him. "You were so busy getting Duo ready to go on the stand, that there really was no time to discuss her involvement."

"Was that what the scene in the hallway yesterday was all about?" asked the D.A., looking at Duo.

My lover nodded. "I had a second of déjà vu is all—seein' her run up and hug Heero like that."

I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping Noventa hadn't caught Duo's use of the word "boyfriend" during his rant. If he had, we were going to have a lot more explaining to do.

A sharp rap on the door broke into our conversation, and a court clerk stuck his head in. "The judge is waiting!"

"Fuck!" Noventa hissed. "Tell her we're on our way."

He rounded on Duo, Chang and me. "Look—we don't have time to finish this right now, but when we get a lunch break, I want the whole story. I want to know exactly how involved Miss Darlian is—where she is—."

"She's currently a fugitive," I admitted, watching him pale at the implications. "She was Captain Po's secretary—and she tampered with evidence to hide the fact that she'd been at Merquise's penthouse the week before his death."

I thought the man was going to spontaneously combust. Instead he shook a finger in front of my face. "You are _so _lucky we are out of time right now. But don't you dare disappear when the judge breaks for lunch. I'm not finished with the ass-reaming you deserve!"

"Whoa," Duo said, impressed by the attorney's crude threat. "An' I thought _I _was gay."

Noventa turned a livid look on him, and my lover smiled sweetly. "Jus' teasing," he assured the man. "You need to lighten up on 'Ro and 'Fei. They've had just as much shit dumped on them in the past twenty-four hours as you have. They didn't know about Relena, so they weren't trying to hide anything from you. Get it?"

Noventa caught Duo by the arm, ushering him ahead of Chang and me, back towards the courtroom. "Just promise me, Maxwell—when I get you back on that stand, do _not _give me anything other than yes or no answers. I will use questions to solicit the right response. Understand me?"

"Yessir," Duo quipped, glancing over his shoulder to wink at me.

I couldn't figure out how he managed to keep that smirk in place, even with an irate D.A. hauling him rapidly down the hall towards the courtroom, and Chang and me practically jogging to keep up.

And just as they reached the open doors, I saw Khushrenada's assistant, Une coming from the direction of the rest rooms, speeding her pace as if to duck in ahead of Duo and Noventa.

"Wufei—," I gasped, catching the hateful gleam in her eyes, and the fact that there was something clenched in her hand, just an instant too late. "Knife!"

My partner leapt forward almost as fast as I did—but Une was even faster, stepping in front of Duo and plunging the blade into his midsection.

"Duo!" I screamed, throwing myself on the woman and tackling her to the floor.

I'd probably have strangled her right there, except that someone pulled me off, and other hands grabbed hold of her, as people came rushing from the courtroom. The noise quickly escalated to screams and yells for someone to call paramedics.

The mention of an ambulance had me turning to see how badly Duo was hurt. He was sprawled face down, blood pooling rapidly under him as he tried feebly to push himself up.

"Lie still!" I warned, pushing past the gathering crowd and dropping to my knees beside him, pulling him onto his side and grimacing at the sight of the knife in his chest.

He coughed weakly, blood trickling from between pale lips. "—'Ro?"

"Shh—," I whispered, pulling him up against me. I didn't dare remove the knife, as it could make the bleeding worse. Nor could I lay him on his back, or he'd drown in his own blood. My educated guess was that he had a punctured lung.

"Fuck—," he rasped hoarsely, eyes squeezed shut and tears of pain trickling from the edges.

"Hush, love," I soothed in a whisper, brushing the bangs from his clammy forehead with a trembling hand. "The ambulance is coming." I could already hear the far-off sound of their sirens.

_Faster, dammit—faster!_

Duo moved convulsively, clutching at my hand. "God_damn_, it hurts!"

"I know…I know…just hang on. You hear me?" I clutched him tighter as he coughed and more blood ran down his chin. "Stay with me, Duo. Don't you dare give up on me now!"

"'M so fuckin' tired," he groaned.

"I don't care!" I blurted in panic. "You have to stay _with _me, Duo! Don't give up!"

"—love you," he choked out, giving my hand a weak squeeze before going completely limp in my arms.

"Duo? Duo! _Breathe_, goddamnit, _breathe_!" I couldn't see any movement at all—no reassuring rise and fall—no quiver of motion in the slack lips as blood dripped slowly down onto the ground. "Aw, fuck—Duo!"

I tightened my arms around him, burying my face against the chestnut hair, begging him to breathe until the sounds of sirens and pounding feet drowned out my voice.

Then strong hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back as paramedics tugged Duo from my arms and began working.

"Stretcher!"

"Need a crash kit!"

"Fuck—no pulse!"

"Where's the goddamned stretcher?"

"Starting CPR—."

"C'mon, Yuy. Get a grip." Wufei's voice was stern, but not harsh, cutting through my panic as he hauled me away.

He pushed me up against the wall outside the courtroom and I watched numbly as the paramedics worked, barely able to draw breath myself for the tightness in my chest.

"They'll do all they can," my partner assured me, drawing my gaze away from the spectacle and towards his face. "Let them work."

The judge was trying to restore order, even with cops, paramedics and FBI agents crowded into the hallway along with the spectators from the courtroom. I dimly heard her calling for the jury to be sequestered, and the court recessed for the day.

Tsubarov said something about a mistrial and Judge Lake laughed in his face, assuring him that silencing witnesses didn't warrant throwing out a case. In fact, she ordered Khushrenada's bail revoked and that he be taken into custody for the duration.

In the midst of that, the emergency crew had hoisted Duo onto a gurney and, still in the same state of frantic activity, were rushing it through the crowd and off to the waiting ambulance. Catherine was holding Trowa back, keeping him from following the paramedics and telling him there was nothing he could do to help.

But all of that sort of slid across the surface of my consciousness, as I listened to my partner's quiet voice reminding me to breathe and try to calm myself.

It was working, somewhat, until I glanced over his shoulder to where the bailiff had taken Une into custody. Then I pulled myself free and stalked over, yanking her from the bailiff's grasp and literally throwing her against the wall. "Why?!" I demanded, ignoring Captain Po's order to stand down.

I'd be damned if I was going to let this go. My boss could suspend me or fire me—it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Duo, and I needed to know why Khushrenada's bitch of an assistant felt that even at this late hour, he was worth killing.

"He already fucking testified!" I yelled into her face. "What was the point?"

She turned calm, totally guiltless eyes my way, smirking slightly. "I did it for Treize," she said clearly. Her dark eyes slid past me to her stunned employer, who was still there in the hallway with the rest of the crowd. "He had to be silenced."

Khushrenada gaped at her, and then narrowed his eyes viciously. "Stupid woman! I needed him _alive_!"

She turned towards her boss, shaking her head. "But he told them everything!" she blurted. "I couldn't let him get back on the stand and _ruin_ you!"

The syndicate leader clenched his fists, glaring at the woman. "He was no threat. They'd never have taken his word over mine. He was nothing but a piece of street trash who stripped for a living before Zechs decided to make him his personal whore—."

Trowa's fist landed before either Khushrenada or his entourage could react. "Duo was _not_ a whore!" the green-eyed man snarled, backing away as bailiffs stepped up to intervene, and Quatre went to his side.

Khushrenada had staggered back from the blow, and put a hand to his jaw, but the look he gave Barton was a combination of amusement and respect. The man just couldn't be flustered.

Nonetheless, his lawyers could be, and were desperately trying to shush him, while gesturing madly for Une to be hauled away.

Meanwhile, Une still looked stung by her boss' reprimand, and she was struggling to escape my stranglehold. "Treize—I did it for you!"

"You did it out of spite!" he shot back. "Spite and jealousy!"

Jealousy? I turned a disbelieving look to the syndicate leader, even as the bailiff was slapping handcuffs on him in preparation for taking him into custody.

Khushrenada smirked nastily at me. "Yes, detective. Zechs wasn't the only one with an eye for pretty things. He just happened to get to the whore first."

I lunged towards him, but Wufei caught me and held me back. "Don't, Yuy!" he whispered in my ear. "He's just baiting you! Come—we need to get to the hospital."

His mention of the hospital dragged me out of my rage, and I slumped against him, letting him help support me as the weight of what had happened came crashing down on me.

"Let's go to Duo," he added, looping an arm around my shoulders and steering me away from the scene in the hallway.

Captain Po came storming over at that moment, demanding to know exactly what had happened, but Chang fended her off, telling her to talk to Noventa and that she could question us later at the hospital.

She started to say there was no need for us there—but Quatre stepped in and told her we were going and that's all there was to it.

At the same time, Agent Alexander collared my boss, leaning in to speak quietly, and she sighed, nodded, and then turned and left with him, allowing Winner the chance to grab my arm and usher me rapidly down the hall and outside to a waiting limo.

I slid into the back with my partner right behind me, and wasn't surprised to find Trowa and Catherine already waiting for us.

"What happened, Yuy?" came Trowa's quick demand.

"Leave him alone, Barton," Wufei ordered curtly.

"No—I want to know how that bitch got to Duo!"

"Shh—Trowa—not now!" Catherine urged, tugging at his arm.

Quatre sat on his other side, leaning close and whispering something that at least got Barton to back off for the moment.

Personally, I didn't care. I just buried my face in my hands, reliving the moment when Duo winked at me over Noventa's shoulder, and then Une came rushing up to attack.

God—he never had a chance! He didn't even see it coming.


	59. Missed Fortunes

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Fifty Nine: Missed Fortunes

The waiting room in the hospital was as still as a tomb. Since Captain Po had barricaded the press out of the building, there'd been virtual silence, save for the murmurs of staff going about their quiet business.

Trowa was pacing by the window, his whole body tense with emotion, while Wufei sat with his eyes closed, apparently meditating. I wished I could find the calm center he often spoke of, but all I had was a seething mass of fear and guilt.

"I should've seen—," I whispered dispiritedly.

Quatre reached over to put a hand on mine. "It happened too fast, Heero. How she slipped a knife into the courthouse, I'll never know."

"It wasn't your fault," Catherine added helpfully.

But I didn't share her opinion.

The outer door slammed open then, and Captain Po stalked past us, several FBI agents in tow, heading through the doors leading to the surgical wing.

I was on my feet in a heartbeat. "Captain—is there any word—?"

She glanced back with a scowl and shook her head. "I'll let you know when there is."

And then she was gone, and my half-hearted attempt to follow was cut off by two agents who took up positions behind the swinging doors.

"No admittance," one said, putting a hand on my chest and forcibly shoving me back into the waiting room.

I was about to take issue with their attitude when I felt a hand on my arm, and Wufei gave me a small shake of his head, leading me back over to the seat I'd been occupying for what seemed like hours.

"You know the FBI will claim jurisdiction," he said quietly. "An attack on a protected witness is a federal matter."

"I don't care," I growled in reply. "I don't give a shit about jurisdiction. I just want to know about Duo."

"And you will," Quatre piped up soothingly. "None of us is leaving here until we have a report on his condition…no matter how long it takes."

And it did seem to take forever.

It had been morning when we'd left the courthouse, and probably close to noon when Captain Po arrived and breezed through. It was dark out before we saw her again.

When she stepped into the waiting room, we all looked up expectantly. I don't think even one of us was breathing—it was so still in that room.

"He—didn't make it," she said quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry."

The next few minutes were a blur. I vaguely remember getting up and trying to push past her, screaming that she was lying and I wanted to see him.

And I think maybe Chang and Barton tried to hold me back, as I have a faint recollection of flinging my partner into a vending machine and nearly breaking Barton's arm.

I know I heard her order me to stand down, telling me it was over and that there was nothing more I could do. Then someone called security, I think, and there were other hands grabbing at me and other voices yelling for assistance.

* * *

I woke up feeling softness under my head and warmth across my body, which pretty much ached from head to toe.

But the moment I groaned, a gentle hand settled on my forehead. "Easy, Yuy. Lie still."

I blinked my eyes open to see Wufei's concerned face. "What—happened?"

"You—went a little berserk," he said rather hesitantly. "The security men got a bit rough, and called in reinforcements." He offered a fleeting smile that looked painfully forced. "They sedated you."

"Oh."

Well, that explained the cotton-mouth, the lingering heaviness in my limbs, and even the throbbing in my temples. It also accounted for the way every muscle and joint felt strained and stretched. Only one thing evaded me.

"Why'd I—go berserk?"

Wufei winced and drew back, his dark eyes filling with pain. "You don't remember?"

I shook my head and was immediately sorry. "Ow."

My partner quickly took a cloth from a basin beside the bed and wrung it out before laying the cool fabric across my forehead.

"You haven't answered my question," I reminded him.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning deeply. Then he took a deep breath, looking me squarely in the eyes. "You went nuts because Captain Po came out and told us—." He cleared his throat, blinked, and continued—though by this time memory had returned in a rush and I didn't need him to elaborate. "—told us Duo didn't—make it."

Again the sharp stab of pain through my midsection made me gasp aloud, though this time I didn't lose touch with my surroundings.

"Oh God no," I heard myself croak.

And then Wufei's arms were around me, pulling me up against his shoulder in a fierce grip, while I desperately tried to regain control of my trembling limbs.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

He kept murmuring senseless apologies, while I clung to his shirt and drew shuddering breaths, trying to come to grips with a reality I couldn't comprehend or accept.

When I finally felt myself calming, I loosened my death grip and pushed back from Wufei's embrace.

"How long was I out?"

"All night."

"I—I want to see him."

He shook his head. "Not allowed," he said regretfully. "The Captain said the coroner's office—."

"Coroner my ass!" I spat angrily. "I have to see him, 'Fei. I need to see for myself—. I need—to—to say goodbye."

The tears brimming in my partner's eyes threatened to spill over as I gazed pleadingly at him. "I know, Yuy. And God knows I tried to get her to wait on the autopsy. She wouldn't listen—and I couldn't explain."

"Explain what? That we were lovers?" I demanded. "You didn't _tell _her?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell!" he blurted. "Damn it, Yuy! You went off the deep end, and I couldn't even explain it to our boss, beyond saying that you were distraught over our wasted efforts. Needless to say, she didn't consider it grounds for waiting for you to—to—say goodbye."

I started to swing my legs over the side of the bed, and Wufei caught my arm in a gentle, but firm grip.

"You can't leave, Yuy. Not until the doctor checks you out. The sedative—."

"Screw the sedative! I'm fine!" I snarled. "And unless you want to end up in a hospital bed of your own, you'll let go of my arm."

He jerked back, looking stung, and then gestured to the bed I was currently trying to drag my ass out of. "If it wasn't for me promising to stay here and make sure there were no further—episodes—they'd have had you in restraints."

I realized there were heavy leather straps attached to the rails of the bed at both wrist and ankle height, and I sobered, looking apologetically at my partner. "I'm sorry Wufei. I just—."

"I understand." Dark eyes bored into mine. "_I_ _understand_."

His very bleak tone reminded me he knew exactly what it was like to lose a loved one to senseless violence.

I had to swallow hard to keep from breaking down. "Okay," I managed a bit raggedly. "Could you please get a doctor in here to look me over so I can get the hell out of here?"

He inclined his head politely. "Consider it done."

It didn't take long for the doctor to check my vitals and decide that the sedative had no adverse effects, and I was cleared to go.

As I pulled the curtain around the bed closed and quickly pulled on the change of clothes Wufei had been kind enough to get for me, considering mine still were covered in Duo's blood, my curiosity finally kicked into gear.

"What's happening with the trial?"

"Still in recess," my partner told me. "Septum and Tsubarov were screaming for a mistrial after Une's outburst, saying the jury had been prejudiced. But the judge pretty much laughed in their faces and said that they had only themselves to blame if they couldn't control their client's people. Besides, she had the jury whisked out of there before they heard much, and she said when the session resumes, she'll advise them to disregard Une's psycho rant—but that's all she'll do."

"So when will they resume?"

"A-after the—funeral," he admitted haltingly.

I paused with my pants halfway up, wincing in pain. And then I forced myself to continue dressing. My body could do that much—go through the motions of living, even if it felt like I'd died inside.

"When's that?" I asked, surprised at the faint breathlessness of my voice.

"Day after tomorrow."

"I want to see him," I said firmly.

"I understand—."

"No, you don't." I finished tucking my shirt in and yanked open the curtain. "I won't believe he's dead until I see it for myself."

Wufei grimaced, looking away. "Jesus, Yuy—you saw the wound, the blood—. You heard the paramedics—."

"And I know he was still alive at the hospital, or else they wouldn't have rushed him into emergency surgery."

"Surgery that _failed_," he reminded me.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

My partner threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you think, Yuy? That Captain Po lied to us—that they whisked him off to protect him—? I fucking _wish _that were true."

"We lied to her. I'm sure she'd have no qualms about lying to us."

"I wish she had. Dammit, Heero. I want to believe he's alive as much as you do—but we both have to face facts."

"Facts require proof. I need proof. Then I'll believe he's—he's dead."

"Will you?" Wufei asked with a shake of his head. "Be reasonable—."

"I _am _reasonable!" I snapped coldly. "I want to see his dead body before I'll be willing to accept that Alexander's people aren't just trying to pull a fast one!"

"They won't let you into the morgue without the Captain's clearance," Chang reminded me.

"Then I'll get it."

"Her instructions to me were that you and I are on medical leave until further notice. She thinks the stress finally got to us, and wants us to go home and get some rest."

"I will—after."

"And how will you explain showing up at her office when she made it clear we're off duty? What will you do—tell her that you and Duo were lovers, and you need closure?"

"I'll tell her that after risking my life for weeks to protect him, and being lied to and betrayed by people inside our own ranks, I'm not going to just take it on faith that he's dead."

Wufei sighed wearily, and I realized he looked positively grey with fatigue.

"Go home, Chang. Get some sleep. I can take a taxi over to the precinct and talk to the Captain."

He nodded, apparently giving up on trying to make me see reason. "You'll be okay by yourself? You won't do anything stupid?"

I rolled my eyes. "Chang, I'm going to the station to talk to Captain Po and get permission to see the body. Other than that, I don't expect to do anything at all—stupid or otherwise."

My partner accompanied me downstairs to sign out of the hospital, and then headed for his own apartment, which was within walking distance, while I grabbed a soda from a vending machine to get rid of my cotton-mouth and took a cab to the police station.

* * *

There was a rookie cop at Relena's desk, apparently filling in until they hired a replacement. And as soon as I told him who I was, he buzzed Captain Po on the intercom and told me to go on in.

Captain Po didn't look particularly surprised to see me as I entered her office. "Feeling better, Yuy?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Not particularly," I replied. "I want to see Maxwell's body."

She stared at me for a moment, a slight frown creasing her forehead, and then looked down at the folder on her desk. "I'm sorry. That won't be possible."

"Why not?" Even while my words sounded like typical detective-type skepticism, my heart soared with hope that maybe there _was _no body to see.

"It's been cremated," came the curt reply. "The will he left with Quatre Winner specified that as one of his final wishes."

"Cremated." I clenched my fists, feeling heat building in my gut. "Listen, Captain, unless you show me his body, I refuse to believe Duo Maxwell is dead. In fact, I'd wager this is an elaborate ruse to put him into relocation, in case the charges against Khushrenada don't stick."

"You can't be serious," she chided. "Honestly, Yuy. I realize you're upset about losing your witness—."

"You don't know the half of it!" I blurted.

"I know you and Chang did a fine job of protecting him for nearly two months. And you got him to the trial alive. You _did _your job. What happened afterwards was not your fault."

"That's beside the point!"

She frowned in confusion. "I don't understand your reaction, Yuy—."

"Understand _this_! I know how the FBI works. I know their twisted logic. And if Alexander cooked up some scheme to hide Duo, I want to know about it—!"

My boss opened the folder on her desk and grabbed a handful of glossy photos, flinging them across the desk in front of me. "Would autopsy photographs be enough to convince you?" she asked coldly.

I froze in mid-rant, staring down at the full color, eight by ten images in horror. There was Duo, laid out on a typical morgue slab with a white sheet covering his body. His skin bore the unmistakable pallor of death—looking almost waxy under the exam lights.

My trembling hand slapped down on top of the pictures, sliding them apart to reveal one close-up of the tattoo on his left arm—another of the angel wings and tiger—and yet another of the kanji symbols on his back.

Then there was the full body shot, and even one of the fresh scar on the sole of his foot. Beneath those pictures were more graphic ones, of a body cut open and organs laid out, showing the knife wound on the lung and a slash across part of the heart.

I hastily shoved them aside, before grabbing Po's wastebasket and vomiting noisily into it.

"Jesus Christ, Yuy!" She hit the intercom, calling for the cop who was filling in at Relena's station to come empty the thing.

I was wiping my mouth on a sleeve when I felt her hand on my other arm. "Go home, Heero. You're too close to this case—obviously. I want you to go home and get some sleep. Chang should do the same."

"He already did." I looked up into uncharacteristically concerned eyes. "Duo's really dead."

She nodded, biting her lip and watching for my reaction.

I frowned, still fighting the truth with every fiber of my being. "Photos can be faked—."

"Then talk to Barton. He went more ballistic than you did. So we let him see the body in person."

"Fuck." There was no arguing with that. If Trowa was convinced Duo was dead—if he'd seen him and touched him, and felt the chill of death on that pale skin—.

"I—should go," I said wearily, turning and heading for the door.

The Captain's voice stopped me before I left. "Don't you even want to know about Relena?"

I looked back over my shoulder. "I could care less about that bitch."

She raised an eyebrow at my uncharacteristic indifference. "Stress may have put you out of the game for the moment, Yuy, but you'll care plenty once you're back on your feet. Relena has disappeared at the moment. Her parents haven't seen her since morning of the day you encountered her in the courthouse. But we found the bugs she'd planted near my desk, and the tapes she was keeping of my conversations. We have plenty of evidence to use against her if we ever track her down."

"She's a stupid girl. How hard could it be?" I scoffed.

"She's a stupid girl with more money than she knows what to do with. She could be at any of a dozen family estates."

"Then send someone to search them."

"We have—so far without success. But I'm going to put more people on it. When you're ready to come back to work, I want you to be one of them. I want her found. If Khushrenada somehow gets off on the murder charge, we could at least use Relena's testimony to charge him with blackmail."

"What about Une?"

"She's in the midst of a psychotic episode, Yuy. Since Khushrenada told her off, she's totally lost it—keeps ranting about how she 'did it all for Treize.' I don't know if or when she'll be of any use to us at all."

Not that it mattered to me if the bitch spent the rest of her life in a straight jacket, but I kind of wanted her to be rational enough to be tried for Duo's murder. If they tried using an insanity defense—well, I was pretty sure I could call in a few favors wherever they were holding her. She wasn't out of my reach—not after what she'd done to the man I loved.

My breath caught at the memory, and before I entered a psychotic episode of my own right in Po's office, I turned and left.

I made my way through the station in a haze, feeling a curious sense of detachment from a place that had practically been my home for the past few years. So much had happened since I last walked those halls that everything felt unfamiliar and foreign.

Once I was out on the street, I found the nearest pay phone and dialed Trowa's cell phone number.

"Barton."

"Hey. It's Heero."

I heard a soft whoosh of breath on the other end. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, fine. Um, how 'bout you?"

"Bruised, but okay."

"Sorry."

"Naw—I understand. Honest. Had my own little meltdown after they hauled you out."

"The Captain mentioned that." I paused, closing my eyes, and seeing that last teasing wink from Duo yet again. "She—she said you got to see the—see _him_."

"Yeah." His voice was a bit ragged—hoarse.

"I don't want to believe—," I admitted. "But—if you saw for yourself—." God, this was hard. Harder than confronting Po. I didn't want to hear Barton confirm my worst fears, and yet, I needed him to, if I was going to make myself believe it.

"They—were taking him out of the operating room," Trowa managed, sounding like each word was an effort. "I just got a few seconds, through the window—to see his face—just for a moment."

"And, you're sure—?"

"Fuck, Yuy—. Don't make me say it!"

"Sorry. God, I'm fuckin' sorry. I saw her—in the hallway—and Noventa was too far ahead of us. I couldn't catch up in time to stop her—." I paused in my flood of words, gasping for breath, waiting for Trowa to tell me it was all my fault—for him to curse me and scream at me, and give me the verbal beating I deserved—I _needed_.

"—not your fault," he sighed, sounding totally defeated. "God—I'd fuckin' love to blame you, Yuy. Honest. But—it's not your fault."

I swallowed, fighting back a scream of anguish that wanted to escape. "It was my responsibility to protect him," I finally managed, my voice so ragged I didn't recognize it.

"And you did—from so much," Trowa pointed out, his own voice a little steadier. "I want it to be your fault—so I'd have someone to be angry with—but, shit. Duo would kick my ass if I was that big a dickhead."

I choked back a sob at hearing Duo's name, uttered so casually—as if he were still around to kick anyone's ass at all. "I, uh—I can't deal with this Trowa. Any of it," I confessed.

"Me neither." There was a pause on the line. "You—need someplace to go?"

"No. I'm okay," I lied. "Just—exhausted. Gonna go back to my apartment—get some sleep."

"They make pills for that," he told me helpfully.

"Yeah. Guess I'll pick some up."

"You'll need 'em," he predicted in a sepulchral tone.

I gathered he was speaking from experience. "Well—unless I want to go another round with hospital security," I pointed out.

He gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. "I s'pose that's _one_ way to get knocked out cold."

"Yeah—one way I'll skip," I said dryly. "I'm going home now. If you see Winner, tell him I'm sorry—for the scene at the hospital—and—everything."

"I'll tell 'im."

I hung up, leaning against the wall of the phone booth, closing my eyes and rubbing a hand over my forehead to ease the ache behind them. Then I pulled myself together and stepped out onto the sidewalk, scanning the approaching traffic for another cab.

By the time I hailed one and the driver took me to my place, I was facing a whole new set of issues. I'd drifted back to that conversation at the lake house about how when this whole case was over, Duo would be in relocation and I'd just be Detective Yuy of the First Precinct, with a beat-up car, nosey neighbors, and an empty apartment to go home to every night.

I was about to walk into that empty apartment for the first time since Chang and I had been assigned to protect Duo. And as much as I'd dreaded returning there without Duo, returning there knowing he wasn't safely tucked away in relocation was a million times worse.

If I could have pictured him happily starting a new life that didn't include me, it would still have been better than knowing he was dead.

I'd at least have had hope that we might some day find each other again—or at least that he'd be happy.

Instead, there was only the conviction that this cold, musty apartment, devoid of laughter and life, was to be mine permanently. There was no way I could envision anyone bringing the kind of warmth and energy to the place that Duo would have.

I didn't even bother opening a window. I just tossed my keys onto the counter and headed for my bottle of scotch. It was the only thing I could think of that would knock me out as completely as I needed.

* * *

When I woke up, my head was pounding relentlessly, and a smell of cooking from the kitchen was making my stomach twist.

"Who the fuck—?" I shoved up off of my bed, realizing I'd gone to sleep sprawled across it and still fully clothed. But I'd had the presence of mind the day before to stash my gun in my dresser drawer before I went on my little binge.

I retrieved it now, and pushed the bedroom door open, thoroughly prepared to scare the shit out of whatever intruder had decided to help himself to my kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, I had an errant thought that I might turn the corner into the kitchen and find Duo cooking me breakfast—alive and well. It had me hastening my steps, only to feel the letdown all the more intensely when I saw familiar auburn hair and a decidedly female figure in front of the stove.

"Oh, Heero, you're up!" Catherine said brightly, turning from the stove. "Breakfast is almost ready."

I holstered my gun, rubbing my bleary eyes before once again staring at her. "Why are you here?" I finally asked.

"I brought her," came my partner's voice from the doorway.

I turned to see Wufei calmly leaning there, watching Catherine cook.

"And why are _you _here?" I asked sourly. In all our years of working together, I could count on one hand the number of times Chang had been in my apartment. "How'd you get in anyway? I never gave you a key."

"You left the door unlocked," he said with a disapproving click of his tongue. "Otherwise, I'd have had to get the super to let us in."

"Why?"

He let his gaze rake down my rumpled clothing, and gave a slight sniff before waving a hand in front of his nose. "You reek," he said curtly. "Obviously you need supervision. Why don't you go take a shower before breakfast?"

"And why don't you mind your own business?" I retorted, walking past him to rummage in the fridge for something to wash the horridly unpleasant taste out of my mouth.

There was precious little in the refrigerator at all, though I did manage to find a half-empty bottle of very flat soda. I used a mouthful to rinse my mouth and spit it into the sink.

"Tell me again why you're here, Chang. I don't need babysitters."

"How about friends?" he countered smoothly, stepping past me and pouring coffee from the pot on the counter into a mug. He held it out wordlessly, and I grudgingly took it.

"Catherine came over to my place yesterday to help me air it out and settle in after our long absence," he continued. "It occurred to us that you faced the same kind of bleak homecoming."

I laughed darkly. "Bleak? That's a fucking understatement Chang."

He gave a pained sigh. "I know. But Barton has Winner looking after him, and Catherine came to check on me—and now, we've come to lend a hand to you."

Catherine slipped something from her frying pan onto a plate, and turned to the two of us. "Breakfast is served."

I drank half of my black coffee in a few gulps, not particularly caring that it scorched my tonsils on the way down. "You two go ahead. I'm not hungry."

"Indeed," Wufei said with a hint of a sneer. "I imagine the scotch probably soured your stomach for real food. But you need it anyway."

I glared at him, but he stood his ground, and I finally decided if it appeased him and convinced him that he and Catherine could leave, I'd play along. I plunked down at the table and grabbed a piece of toast, figuring that it would be the least offensive to my touchy stomach.

He and Catherine sat down too, digging in to plates full of eggs, bacon, and toast. I noticed as they ate that they'd opened a couple of windows to let in a bit of fresh air, and thrown open the curtains in the living room to allow sunshine in.

I hated the sunshine. I hated that it could be sunny and warm and bright outside while Duo was dead. God, I hated the fucking world!

"Chang—," I rasped, setting down the toast and starting to push away from the table.

"Sit!" he ordered crisply. And I sat. "As I said yesterday, I know how you feel. I'm not asking you to stop feeling that way. I'm merely insisting that you eat, and shower, and take minimal care of yourself, until you're ready to think about living again. That's all."

"Wufei—," Catherine said in a reproachful whisper.

"Quiet woman," he said sternly. "This is between my friend and me."

I looked up sharply at the word "friend," but didn't have the guts to contradict him. Yes, I knew we'd become more than partners over the past few weeks. We'd been allies and confidantes. We'd been through Hell together.

I didn't dare try to tell him we weren't friends.

Especially when I knew he was right.

"I—appreciate the gesture," I said with less hostility. "But—after we eat—I'd just as soon be alone again."

He nodded, seeming unfazed by my request. "We won't be staying long at all," he told me. "As I said, we're just here to get things started for you. You'll need to go out later and grocery shop, as you've very little in your fridge, and we brought only the supplies to make breakfast. And you might want to make sure you've got something appropriate to wear to the memorial service tomorrow."

I froze at that, staring down into my coffee cup. "I don't think—."

"You _will _attend it, Yuy. Catherine and I will pick you up at noon. The service is to be held at the funeral home on the corner of Fifth and Main at two o'clock, but we should be there a bit early."

"Why?" I asked hoarsely. "It's not like anyone even knew about Duo and me," I pointed out. "I know Trowa is like family, but—."

"We are _all _like his family," Wufei said crisply. "And I would be deeply ashamed of you if you failed to take part in a memorial for him."

"Do you know how much it _hurts_?" I demanded. "You're asking more than I can give."

"That's why we'll be right there at your side," he promised. "To help you get through it."

Catherine slid a hand across to grip one of mine firmly. "If I made it through Nate's funeral, Heero, you can make it through Duo's. You're much stronger than I was back then. And you'll do it for Duo."

I sighed and nodded, knowing that all the protests in the world wouldn't get me out of fulfilling my obligation. Hell, if Wufei and Catherine didn't drag me to the memorial, I had a feeling Quatre and Trowa would.

So I steeled myself to face the day, bidding Wufei and Catherine goodbye as soon as we'd finished eating. Then I made myself take that long-awaited shower, which did indeed make me feel a bit more human. And finally, in a desperate attempt at normalcy, I went out and bought some milk and bread and a few essential groceries.

I really tried. For the sake of Chang and the other people I knew were worried, I tried to pretend I was okay. I tried to stick to healthy foods and things that were part of my normal routine—or at least the normal routine I had before my latest assignment.

It wasn't until I was passing a liquor store on my way home and saw a sign advertising a sale on dark imported beer that I gave in to the need for more. I bought a couple of six-packs, even though I'd never tried the stuff before, and then stopped by a Chinese restaurant for take-out.

The memorial might not be until the next day, but I had my own way of remembering Duo that night.


	60. Funeral for a Friend

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty: Funeral for a Friend

Wufei and Catherine were prompt; I had to give 'em that much. They picked me up right at twelve, dressed in the best suit I owned, and drove to the funeral home.

I was amazed at the turnout. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been. I knew how magnetic Duo's personality was. Yet it surprised me to see more people than the tiny funeral home could hold—all turning out to remember Duo.

He deserved every one of them.

It took us close to fifteen minutes to work our way up the line and into the reception room in the funeral home.

Trowa was there, of course, on Quatre's arm, looking pale and more withdrawn than usual. He was hard to read at the best of times, but I could imagine the blonde lawyer having a devil of a time keeping his spirits up—much like Chang was having with me.

I noticed Captain Po in line too, no doubt there in her official capacity as the head of our precinct; I guessed the Chief was probably too busy trying to track down his wayward daughter to attend.

Then, to my surprise, I caught a glimpse of Noventa working his way through the throng towards Winner. It was a bit unusual—a District Attorney attending a witness' funeral—but then, this was a rather unique situation; he'd been the one at Duo's side when he was attacked. I wondered if he was just there to make sure Duo had no relatives to sue the department for gross negligence.

_Who, me? Bitter?_

The rest of the crowd might have been co-workers at either of the bars Duo had worked in. The entire chorus line from the Sanc Palace was there—except the little brunette bitch who'd helped Khushrenada—and they were all dressed to the nines. They might have passed for a bunch of soccer moms, they looked so—respectable.

I brushed futilely at my eyes, remembering how Duo had loved the way Zechs made him feel respectable. It meant an awful lot for a street kid like Duo to want that; it meant that no matter how crude and harsh his life had been, he always wanted to be a better person.

"You okay, Yuy?" asked my partner in an undertone. He was close beside me, as he'd been since we left the car, and Catherine was close beside _him_.

I shook my head. "Stupid fuckin' question, Chang," I muttered. "I failed, and Duo's dead because of it."

"You didn't _fail_. He testified—Khushrenada _will _be convicted. He got justice for Merquise, and he got over losing him." He gripped my arm hard. "Don't you dare underestimate what you meant to Duo. I can assure you, if it meant losing what you two shared, he wouldn't have changed a thing."

"Yeah—him and his 'moments,'" I said gruffly.

Chang was more or less right. Duo hadn't been as concerned about dying as he was that Khushrenada should have to pay for his crime. Back at the circus property he'd told me as much—told me that if Wufei and I hadn't intercepted him, he'd have hidden out and waited for a chance to kill Khushrenada himself. He'd have thrown his life away just for revenge.

Instead, he'd played by the rules and look where it got him—just as dead. I couldn't make myself feel that there was a fair tradeoff—that it was any better that he'd died the way he did. He'd fuckin' testified—Khushrenada was _done_—there was no point to his dying after the fact.

I looked up to find Trowa standing in front of me, his green eyes tearful—but amazingly not accusing.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely.

He shook his head. "Don't be."

"I was supposed to keep him alive."

"You did the best you could."

"I was an asshole, Barton," I admitted flatly. "I judged him before I even met him, treated him like shit—. Hell, half the time I treated him like a child—as if he didn't have a brain in his head."

"Sometimes he didn't," Trowa said with a hint of a smile. "He was stubborn, defiant—and had an attitude the size of Mount Everest. But you got past it, didn't you? After a rocky start, you found the tender soul inside that tough exterior. That matters."

He caught hold of my arm, nodding to my partner and Catherine. "I'm gonna borrow Yuy for a bit, okay? I need to show him some things."

He dragged me through the crowd, nodding and murmuring greetings to a few people we passed, and then brought me to a standstill at a table in the front of the room.

A small urn sat in the middle, surrounded by mementos of Duo's life. It was almost hard to see them, for all the flowers people had been laying on the table. But centrally located was a picture of Duo with kids I assumed were from the orphanage clustered around and hanging onto him. It looked like he was playing keep-away, holding a ball out of reach with laughing children scrambling to steal it.

Beside that was a photo of Duo while he was busy sketching. I guessed maybe Trowa had taken it, because the background looked like the inside of a circus tent.

There were others—Duo on his motorcycle, helmet in hand, wearing his faded leather Reapers jacket—Duo with Trowa on a high wire, trying to inch across it—.

"We lowered it for that," Trowa said quietly, following my gaze.

"I should hope so," I muttered dryly. "Can't imagine learning the skill fifty feet up."

"Nope." He gave a wistful smile. "Duo was good, though…natural balance. He said it was from sneaking across rooftops and fire escapes for break-ins."

I managed a weak chuckle. "Only Duo."

Then my gaze traveled down the table, and my jaw dropped. I stared dumbstruck at a picture of Duo in black garb that would have resembled a priest's outfit, save for the foot-long fringe along both sleeves and the skin-tight pants with lacing up the sides, showing plenty of skin. He had both arms thrown wide, as if he were on a cross, and his head was tilted back, exposing a pale throat and that characteristic white collar. The braid trailed over one shoulder, snaking its way down past his waistband and onto a leather-clad thigh.

"Your own, personal Jesus," Trowa said in a soft, almost reverent voice.

"Hm?"

"That outfit." He smiled briefly—painfully. "He danced to the song 'Personal Jesus' by Depeche Mode. It was—incredible."

I couldn't help a soft, rueful snort. "Yeah—it'd make me want to find God."

His laugh was short, choked off by a constricted throat. "Shoulda seen Father Maxwell's face when he gotta load of that picture."

I managed a brief, genuine laugh, imagining how much Duo would have enjoyed scandalizing the poor priest.

"He took irreverent to a whole new level," Trowa sighed. "And I loved him for that. Who else could've gotten away with doing a striptease in priest's clothes, and not come off looking like a soulless bastard?"

I could almost imagine Duo saying "I make this look _good_," and running a hand down his skin-tight outfit.

He did. Make it look good, that is. He made it look amazing—erotic—and yet somehow not completely disrespectful. I thought maybe God would've understood. If you create such a sensual creature, you've got to expect him to flaunt it—right?

Of course, since I didn't believe in God, that whole train of thought was just—pointless.

"Trowa?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad he found you."

He smiled sadly. "I'm glad _you _found _him_."

* * *

We moved off to one side, allowing the people to continue filing through the room, paying their last respects and literally covering that table to overflowing with flowers, cards, and little trinkets that must have had some special meaning between them and Duo.

I felt a pang as I realized Duo would never know just how many people's lives he'd touched. Who'd have thought the death of one former stripper would draw such a crowd?

I swear, nearly every employee from both The Jungle and Sanc Palace showed up—including Ms. Noin. She caught my eye from the reception line and nodded a greeting, dabbing at her tears with a tissue.

"God—everyone loved him," I sighed under my breath.

"No," Barton said firmly. "Everyone loved his spirit and his sass—the life and energy he brought into their lives. You and I were in a small, select group—the ones who saw past the pretty exterior to the warm, sensitive soul inside. These people cared—but they never really knew him."

I noticed that the array of pictures drew mixed reactions—chuckles from some, and renewed tears from others.

When a group of children came in, escorted by a nun and a sober-faced priest, I didn't need to ask who they were.

Trowa touched my arm. "Come meet Father Maxwell," he urged.

"No—I—I don't know what to say—," I protested.

"You don't have to say anything," he assured me, ushering me firmly over to them.

"Trowa!" The priest reached to shake his hand, gesturing the nun and the kids to go ahead through the line without him. "I'm glad to see you. I hope you'll stop by the orphanage afterwards. We're having a small gathering—."

"Um—I dunno, Father—."

"Please. The children are as fond of you as they were of Duo. I think it would mean a lot to them."

"I—um—can I bring a—friend?" He nodded in Quatre's direction, and the priest's eyes widened in realization.

I don't know what I expected—condemnation or disappointment, I guess.

But the priest gave a small, tolerant smile. "Mister Winner helped fund our little reception. Of course he's welcome." He raised an eyebrow speculatively. "Serious?"

Trowa nodded, blushing a little.

Father Maxwell glanced from him to me. "I thought perhaps you two—?"

"Oh, no!" Trowa corrected him hastily. "This is Detective Yuy. He and his partner were the ones who protected Duo—."

"Not well enough," I added gruffly.

The priest studied my face for a long moment, and then nodded as if he'd seen something he was looking for. "I'm sure you did the best you could."

"He did!" Trowa said quickly, as if daring me to disagree. "No one could have predicted how that psycho bitch waited for her chance at Duo. No one. Got that, Yuy?"

I sighed and nodded. "Not even the man who loved him," I admitted.

This time Father Maxwell's eyes showed genuine surprise, and he looked more closely at me.

Trowa gave a wry chuckle, as I blushed under the priest's scrutiny. "Yeah, padre—Duo fell for a cop. Go figure."

"I think I was the one who did the falling," I conceded. What is it about a priest that makes you want to bare your soul when you've hardly known him five minutes?

But apparently I wasn't the only one who told Father Maxwell things I'd just as soon have bottled up.

He smiled knowingly, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Come take a walk with me."

"Uh—I—." I looked appealingly at Trowa, who merely shrugged. And seeing no way out of a heart to heart with the cleric, I let him steer me out to a quiet sunroom at the back of the funeral parlor.

"Look, Father, I know what you're going to say, and—."

"Really?" he interrupted. "Do you expect me to condemn you for being homosexual? Or for getting involved with Duo?"

"Either? Both? I—don't know."

"Well then—just let me talk." He gave a smile and a shrug. "I'm delivering the eulogy, so we could consider this a warm-up."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Would it surprise you to hear that Duo had mentioned you to me? At least, I _think _it was you—or someone very similar—."

_Well—yes it would surprise me_. I frowned in confusion. "When could he have—?"

"Oh, it was some years ago. I ran into him on the street one day, out of the blue. At first I hardly recognized him, he'd become so much harder and leaner than when he was a boy at the orphanage." He crossed his arms behind his back and looked out the window at the bright, sunny garden. "There were needle tracks on his arms, and he looked half-starved; and wary—like a dog that's had to fight for every scrap."

I swallowed at the image he created, and it brought fresh tears to my eyes. I didn't want to think of Duo having ever been so badly treated by life.

"It took a lot of coaxing, but I got Duo to come back to the orphanage for supper. I think the lure of a hot meal and a safe place to sleep for one night was too strong a temptation. So he came with me. I fed him and let him use my shower and my room for the night. And the next morning, he was gone—along with half the silver from the service in the rectory."

I winced at that, again tormented by the picture he painted of my lover being desperate enough for a fix that he'd steal from a church.

"He came back that night," Father Maxwell continued. "He brought back every piece of that silver, and tried to shove it into my hands and run. But I asked him to stay. And amazingly, he did. He asked why I'd bother with street trash like him, and I told him that he was only street trash if that was what he wanted to be."

Okay—he had me there. Tears were spilling over in spite of my best efforts, and the priest quietly passed me a folded tissue.

"He broke down after that—told me about the gang he'd been with, and what happened to them. And then he told me that the drugs helped him forget—forget what he'd lost and forget what he was. I once again reminded him that it was entirely up to him to decide what he was—that no one else's perception can make you something you're not."

"The funny thing was—he laughed about that, and told me about a cop who'd called him a hooker—and how every time he'd considered becoming one, he'd remembered that officer's 'gorgeous blue eyes,' and the contempt in them, and he'd resisted the temptation. He told me maybe I was right; that maybe no one can make you something you're not. So I asked him what he wanted to be." The priest had to pause to clear his own throat, and I was glad I wasn't the only one choked up over his heart wrenching story. "He said he didn't know. And I told him he was welcome to stay and help out at the orphanage until he figured it out."

"Thank you," I croaked out hoarsely. "For giving him that chance."

"Oh, I gave him very little, really," came the modest response. "A bed…three meals a day…those are small things. And in all honesty, he didn't take me up on the offer right away. He came and went for awhile." He shrugged slightly. "The Church really wasn't the place for him. He had too many grudges and too much of a spirit of rebellion. But it was at least a safe haven that provided enough stability that he eventually found his own direction."

Father Maxwell turned to face me, his expression pensive. "Duo was still a work in progress, detective—as we all are. I think, had he survived, you would have been very good for him. I can see in your eyes that you cared deeply for him."

"That hasn't stopped just because he's—dead," I said gruffly.

"Of course not," he agreed. "That's why we're having this conversation. I think that your opinion of Duo probably mattered a great deal to him. Perhaps you reminded him of the blue-eyed cop he mentioned—."

"I _was _the blue-eyed cop," I said quickly. "He told me—. We were talking about things he'd done, and things he hadn't—and he told me that the first time we met, years ago, when I called him a—hooker—it bothered him so much that he never stooped to becoming one." I blinked back the threat of more tears. "I'm grateful to have given him even that much. And I'm even more grateful I had the chance to find out he was so much more than I gave him credit for, that first time."

Father Maxwell gave one of those annoyingly smug smiles that clerics often do, and then added the rote answer. "God works in mysterious ways."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad you have that much peace of mind, Father, that you can lay it all in someone else's hands. But I don't. I will always blame myself for not being quick enough or circumspect enough to prevent Duo's death. And I will always hate myself for costing him the chance to finish becoming whatever it was he'd decided to be."

"Oh, detective—," breathed the priest sadly, reaching towards me.

But I pulled back, and before he could launch into more soothing rhetoric, I headed back into the main room of the funeral home, wondering why these places never had an open bar.

I mean, shit, when you're grieving over someone's death, a stiff drink would come in very handy. I thought it unlikely that the little "gathering" at the orphanage would include anything other than fruit punch. So I pretty much decided then and there that I'd find my way to a local bar as soon as I could extract myself from my partner's and Trowa's clutches.

* * *

Imagine my surprise when it was Winner who collared me as I re-entered the reception room.

"Where have you been?" he asked brightly, catching my arm and steering me towards a side room, where chairs were set up for the memorial service. "Catherine saved seats in the front row. Trowa and Wufei are already there."

"I was talking to a priest," I said grouchily.

"Oh, good—Father Maxwell's conducting the service. I take it he'll be along shortly?"

"He's probably right behind me."

But Quatre didn't wait around for the good padre; he ushered me firmly through the rows of chairs and into a seat between Barton and Chang.

Great. There'd be no skipping out until the end of the heart wrenching ordeal.

I could only hope it would be mercifully short. The Fifth Street Pub was calling.

Father Maxwell made his way to the podium before I'd even started to squirm on the hard plastic funeral home chair, and I studiously avoided eye contact when he was situated right in front of us.

But he kept his gaze on the far reaches of the room, for the time being, and cleared his throat and began…

"Duo was the quintessential 'child of the streets,' with no knowledge of his origins, no parents and no home. Yet everywhere he went, he surrounded himself with family. No one who met him remained unaffected.

When he came to the orphanage, he was a bright, vivacious boy. Oh, he had his rough edges—but there was a buoyant spirit in him that was impossible to overlook. It's inconceivable to me that he was never adopted. I can only surmise that with each new foster family, he tested his boundaries, as he was wont to do—and that not one of those families had the strength and endurance to live up to his needs."

"He had many needs." Here the priest smiled rather indulgently.

"He needed affection—a lot of it. And yet, at the same time, he pushed it away, as if to force those who'd give it to him to prove that they were sincere. I think that as often as he'd been hurt, he was suspicious of kindness.

And yet he was a kind person. He helped out at the orphanage both when he lived there, and years later when I was able to coax him back. I cannot describe how much he was missed in between. Sister Helen and I both worried when he disappeared back to the streets he'd come from. Although we knew he was first and foremost a survivor, we worried that he'd either lose the gentle spirit he carried inside himself, or end up dead from trying to help where it wasn't wanted.

Instead, he endured, and persevered, and in spite of highs and lows in his life, found his way back to us as a young man, still in need of guidance, but finally ready to accept it."

"Not that guiding that young man was ever an easy task." His gaze sought Trowa, who smiled rather tremulously.

"Just ask Trowa Barton, one of Duo's dearest friends. Duo was stubborn and defiant—but not unreasonable. I think it was his willingness to learn new things that enabled him to outgrow his crude surroundings and improve his lifestyle. It was also his friendship with Trowa that made it possible. I know for a fact that Duo credited Trowa with turning his life around.

Of course, we all know it was Duo who did that.

But, with Trowa's help, he turned away from his self-destructive habits, got a job, and found his niche in life. He volunteered at the orphanage on weekends, and donated both his time and his money to help better the lives of the children there.

He also had talents he 'hid under a bushel,' so to speak. Few people probably knew that he loved to sketch—but I have whole scrapbooks filled with pictures he drew of the children at the orphanage, as well as others in his life. He also learned how to cook. I have it on good authority that Duo Maxwell had a definite flair for gourmet cooking. I'm just sorry I didn't get to sample what I heard were truly memorable meals.

And even while he was being hidden away these past weeks, his very life at risk, I heard from Trowa Barton that Duo learned how to swim."

I almost broke down right then, darting a perfectly vicious glare at Barton, who winced and shrugged a bit helplessly, mouthing "I didn't know he'd mention that."

"If we learn only one thing from Duo's life, it should be that we never waste a moment of ours. He lived his to the fullest, making every minute count. He was irreverent, brash, outspoken—and warm, charming and clever. He was hard to ignore, and impossible not to like. He did things he wasn't proud of, and then learned from those failures. And he did things he was very proud of, without being boastful or arrogant."

The old priest got a bit choked up here, and cleared his throat gruffly.

"I will miss Duo very much, as I'm sure you all will as well. And I hope we can respect his memory by being as true to ourselves as he was—by making the most of every moment we're granted on this Earth."

He proceeded to launch into some prescribed church text after that—reading some psalms that pertained to death and the afterlife. But I wasn't really listening by then.

I was recalling Duo's kiss, and his sparkling eyes as he said "Who's to say the value in a moment is how long it lasts?"

I know I valued every one I'd had with him—the good _and_ the bad. And I'd happily have given my soul to get "lost in a moment" with him one more time.

* * *

When Father Maxwell finally finished, making some reference to "ashes to ashes" and the fact that Duo had always said he wanted to be cremated "like the rest of the Reapers," I was more than ready to jump from my seat and head for the nearest bar.

But of course Wufei collared me and kept me in the milling crowd a bit longer, saying that Catherine needed a moment with Trowa before they could drive me home.

"Actually, Chang, I'd just as soon walk," I told him frankly. "I could use the fresh air and exercise."

"Oh really?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "And I suppose the half-dozen bars between here and your apartment have nothing to do with your sudden need for 'air'?"

_Busted!_

"Look, if I want to honor Duo's memory by downing a couple of dark beers, isn't that my prerogative?"

"Yes, of course it is. But you might consider inviting a friend along."

I sighed, running a hand across my face. "I'm really not in the mood for company, Wufei. And besides, you've got Catherine to think about. She's been through a lot lately, and between being Trowa's moral support and yours, she deserves a break. Why don't you take her out somewhere you two can be alone? Enjoy each other's company."

I lost his reply, as I'd suddenly spotted a familiar and unexpected face in the crowd. I didn't know how Howard had found out about Duo's death so quickly, but there he was near the back of the room, slowly heading towards the door.

Perhaps I was a glutton for punishment, but I worked my way across the crowded room, figuring he might still want a piece of me for my failure to protect his friend.

"Howard—?"

He turned towards me, tipping his sunglasses down and looking over the rims. "Heero, wasn't it?"

"Uh—yeah." I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to light into me.

"I guess the kid was in even deeper than I thought," he sighed. "I wish he'd told me about Khushrenada. I don't have a lotta contacts in the city any more—but I could've found him somewhere to hide out."

"I wish you had," I admitted.

Chang had finally caught up to me, and touched my arm. "Yuy—!"

"Yuy?" Howard echoed, his eyes lighting with realization. "_Detective_ Yuy?"

I nodded.

"I should've known," he muttered, starting to fish through his pockets. "Got it here somewhere—."

"Got what?" I asked, resisting Chang's tug on my sleeve.

"A message—for you." Howard pulled something out of his pocket. "From the kid."

"Duo?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit shaky.

"Accourse, Duo," he chided, holding out a folded scrap of—.

"Toilet paper?"

Smirking, he shoved it towards me. "I keep a pencil in the john for crosswords. The kid must've spotted it an' decided to leave a note. It said if anything happened to him, to get this to Detective Yuy, First Precinct."

My hand was trembling as I reached for it. On the one hand, anything from Duo was something I'd treasure. But on the other, knowing he'd so casually accepted the likelihood of not surviving made it a bittersweet gift.

I unfolded the squares of paper and read the neatly-printed block letters.

FIRST, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT, YUY. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL.

SECOND, YOU SHOULD'VE FOUND A KEY IN ZECHS' STUFF. TRY THE DEPOSITORY ON AVENUE ROYALE, SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX NUMBER 626. HE TOLD ME IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO HIM, THE CONTENTS WOULD PROTECT ME FROM BOTH THE COPS AND THE SYNDICATE, AND ENSURE I NEVER WENT WITHOUT ANYTHING. I'D HAVE TOLD YOU ABOUT IT—BUT I WASN'T SURE THE CONTENTS WOULD BE ENTIRELY "LEGAL."

THIRD, IF I NEVER GOT THE BALLS (OR THE CHANCE) TO TELL YOU, I LOVE YOU.

I swallowed hard, and closed my hand around the scrap of paper, looking up at Howard. "Did you read this?"

"Wasn't addressed to me," he sniffed disdainfully. "All I read was the piece on top that told me where to bring it."

"I'm—sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to imply—. Just—."

"Don't sweat it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I just hope, whatever the kid died for was worth it."

"Fuck no," I blurted, allowing the bitterness to color my voice.

The keen eyes favored me with another long look. "You were in love with him."

I nodded, drawing a shaky breath. "Still am," I admitted.

"He was a good kid, no matter what kind of shit he got mixed up in."

I looked up, catching his gaze. "He _was_ good," I agreed. "He was bright, and funny, and—amazing."

Howard smiled a bit tearily. "Like the priest said."

"Like that."

The old man nodded, looking pensive. "I think maybe he was in love with you, too…the way he looked at you the day you stopped at the trailer park."

I gestured with the folded scrap of paper. "Yeah, he said so."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Just so y'know—that wasn't something he'd say to just anyone. Kind of a superstition he had after Solo died…"

"I know."

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "One more thing. I don't blame you for what happened. I read the papers, an' from what the reporters said, you and your partner got the kid through Hell and back. There's no way you could've anticipated that crazy bitch smuggling a knife into the courthouse."

I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the note in my hands. "Thanks, but—."

"No 'buts,' detective," he said sharply. "With half the world out to get him, there was no way one man, or even two, could be everywhere at once."

"I know," I whispered, blinking back tears.

I was so fucking tired of being on the verge of tears. I'd never cried in my adult life—not that I could recall—and lately it seemed like I'd never be able to stop.

Howard nodded a farewell, and drifted off into the crowd, while I tucked the note into my pocket, figuring I'd deal with it later. For right now, I just wanted to get away from the people and the noise and the unrelenting pain of missing Duo.

So I sidestepped Chang's insistence on giving me a ride by asking if there was a restroom, and then borrowed a page from Duo's book and slipped out the window. I even found myself chuckling as I strode quickly down the sidewalk, reflecting that my partner clearly hadn't learned from his past mistake.

I knew I'd pay for it the next time I saw him, but in the meantime, there was a barstool with my name on it, and a dark, imported beer with Duo's.


	61. Souvenirs

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: If you've never heard the song "Souvenirs" by Dan Fogelburg, listen to it. It'll make you cry.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty One: Souvenirs

It was a couple of days after the funeral, and Chang hadn't tracked me down to lecture me for ditching him yet, for which I was grateful.

He had, however, left a curt message on my machine that he was giving me some space, and expected me to put it to good use. But that was all. And it was vague enough that I didn't really feel guilty about spending far too much time rattling around my empty apartment and eating takeout food.

It wasn't until I was throwing together a batch of laundry and pulled the note from Duo out of my pocket that I recalled his mention of a key and a safety deposit box.

Okay—in my defense, I hadn't been more than half sober since I left that funeral home. So it's somewhat understandable that I forgot about the whole "key" thing.

But once the note brought it forcibly to my attention again, I had a feeling I might have stumbled onto the reason Treize Khushrenada had wanted my lover alive. Merquise had left something behind; and I suspected it either belonged to Khushrenada, or was in some way a threat to the man.

But then Duo's letter had said no such thing—only that Zechs said it would provide for him. For all I knew, it was a box full of cash and a ticket to Tahiti.

I decided to make up an excuse to go in to work, and see if I could find the key in the evidence room with the rest of Merquise's belongings. I figured that checking with personnel to make sure I had plenty of sick leave and vacation left would be a good enough cover.

My poor old clunker of a car did not want to start after sitting in the parking garage for the past several weeks. It took half an hour and a jump start from a neighbor, whose name I hadn't known after living on the same floor for two years, to get that car going.

And as I thanked Mrs. Walters and pulled out of my parking space, I couldn't help thinking Duo probably would have known her name, her kids' names, and her favorite flavor of ice cream within an hour of moving in.

But then, he was the social one. I was an anti-social cop with a better than average conviction rate and virtually no life outside of work. And that used to be enough.

Used to.

I made a mental note to pick up some flowers and a thank-you card for Mrs. Walters on my way home.

Then I drove down familiar streets, marveling at the fact that everything seemed so—normal. I always thought that "life goes on" saying was lame—but it was also, apparently, accurate. Life was going on, without Duo—and without me.

But then, I wasn't ready to rejoin it anyway.

I parked on the street, not wanting to tie up space in the employee lot, and made my way into the police station, nodding to Silvia, the receptionist at the front desk.

"Detective Yuy!" She sounded inordinately surprised. "I thought you were out on leave."

"Uh—yes, I guess I am," I admitted, wondering exactly how long my boss expected me to be out on "stress leave," and how many people she'd told. It had already been almost a week. Maybe I should call Chang and check on that sometime soon. "I just left a few things at my desk that I need," I told her. "And I thought I'd look up how much leave time I've accrued."

She nodded and smiled. "I can look up the leave for you, if you like, and have the numbers for you when you get back down here."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

I headed for the elevator—but instead of taking it to the floor where my office was located, I punched the button for the basement, where the evidence was kept.

When I got to the door of the evidence room, I was in for another surprise. Apparently Tom from the mail room had been promoted, and was now working in evidence storage.

Yes, Tom—the one Chang had called "Tom the Twink."

I still thought he was a good-looking kid. But not in a class with Duo. Sadly, no one was.

"Detective Yuy," Tom said brightly, a smile spreading across his handsome face. "We've missed you and Detective Chang around here."

I mustered up a wry smirk. "C'mon—honestly? Chang and me? I'll bet the Chief and the Commissioner have been enjoying the break from figuring out new punishments every time I rough up a suspect."

He smiled and ducked his head. "Maybe," he admitted. "But when word got out that you two were on the Khushrenada case—protecting that witness—."

I stiffened, my mood darkening. "You mean the word that _shouldn't _have leaked out?"

"Yeah—shouldn't have," he agreed. "But it did. Rumor has it the Captain's secretary was the source." He shook his head. "She seemed like a nice enough girl—."

"She almost got my partner and me killed—right along with our protected witness," I told him frankly. "When they catch up with her, I'll be happy to watch 'em throw the book at her."

I'd been filling out a request form while we talked, and handed it to Tom, watching as he looked it over.

"Merquise's stuff?" He gave a slight shrug. "All the important stuff is at the courthouse for the trial—anything associated with the murder or DNA samples—. But I'll see what I've got."

He returned in a few moments with a couple of plastic containers and a bag with a very familiar leather jacket in it.

Fuck—the goddamned Reapers jacket.

I took the stuff he passed over the counter, setting the plastic trays on a table so I could look through the contents.

There were quite a few keys in there—some obviously for sports cars or Merquise's penthouse and clubs. But one slightly smaller key was listed on the inventory as probably belonging to a lockbox. That had to be the one.

I was about to take it to Tom and let him record the identification label and log in the fact that I'd signed it out, when a sliver of worry poked at the back of my mind. It was possible that Alexander was one of Khushrenada's bought and paid for FBI agents—and if that were the case, it was very possible that he was monitoring Merquise's belongings. If so, he'd know I'd signed out the key in no time.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching Tom in the act of staring at my ass, and smiled politely. "Hey, can you check in back to be sure this is it? I thought there'd be more."

"Sure."

He disappeared, and I quickly pulled a key off my keychain that opened a gun case I hadn't used in years. It was approximately the same size and shape as Merquise's key, so I hastily rubbed it on my sleeve to erase fingerprints, and then peeled the label from the lockbox key and stuck it on.

I'd just finished switching them and slipping Merquise's key in with my others when Tom returned.

"No luck?"

He shook his head. "That's all of it, right there."

"Okay—then I guess what I'm looking for isn't here," I shrugged, picking up the containers and carrying them over to him.

As I was passing them back, I paused with the leather jacket. "Hey, Tom—we got this out of Merquise's apartment the first day of the investigation; but it's not his. You want to put down that it's being returned to the rightful owner, since it's not part of the case? I'll take responsibility, if anyone comes looking for it."

I knew no one would; it had no relevance in the murder case that was still under way, since we knew for a fact it was Duo's and he'd testified in court that he'd been at the penthouse the night of the murder. On the other hand, it had a lot of relevance for me.

Tom hesitated for only an instant, and then nodded, giving me a sort of shy smile. "Sure, detective. I'm sure you'll get it to where it belongs."

I felt a little bad for having deceived him about the key. Having spent some time around Duo, I'd come to recognize the more subtle (or maybe in Duo's case _not_ so subtle) forms of flirting, and I realized Tom was either awestruck by my status in the department (_yeah, right_) or he had a little crush on me.

I didn't want to encourage either—so I took the jacket and gave a curt, but not rude, nod of my head. "Thanks for the help, Tom."

"Any time, detective."

"Call me Heero," slipped out before I could stop myself, and the man's smile widened until he was practically beaming.

"Okay, Heero," he said, as if trying it out.

Mentally berating myself for giving him even the slightest encouragement, I hurried out of the evidence room and headed back up to the main lobby, wanting nothing more than to get out of the building and back to my solitude.

"Yuy—what are you doing here?"

I stopped in my tracks, just after stepping off the elevator and nearly bumping into my boss.

"I—came in to see how long I'm out on leave, Captain," I said carefully. "I thought I'd have personnel look up how much time I've got available."

She eyed me up and down. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm—decompressing a bit," I said descriptively. "You were right that the protective detail took a toll on both Chang and me. This time off is probably a good idea."

She nodded, looking pleased. "Guarding a witness is not the usual work of a detective. I had my doubts from the start. But I have to say, you both did an excellent job—in spite of what happened at the courthouse." Her forehead creased with concern. "You _do _realize that was a lapse in courthouse security, and not your fault or Chang's?"

_No_. "Yes ma'am."

Her keen eyes dropped to the jacket folded in my arms, and then came back up to my face. "Is that Maxwell's coat?"

"Uh, yes."

"Did Winner ask for it? Because I've also got the key to the storage facility where the rest of Maxwell's belongings were stored." She gestured me to join her in the elevator, and pushed the button for the floor where her office was located. "I'd appreciate it if you could collect the boxes and drop them off at Winner's office, or make arrangements for him to pick them up—."

"That would be fine."

"I know, technically you're on sick leave—but it'd save me some time. Playing phone tag with lawyers is not high on my list of things to do right now, what with the Khushrenada case resuming tomorrow."

I stiffened at that, wondering for the first time since the attack whether Noventa would be able to salvage the case against Khushrenada. I mean, Une's tirade in the hall certainly lent credence to Duo's testimony. But the jury wouldn't be privy to that, and since Une was mentally unstable, they weren't likely to hear from her at all.

"What did forensics finally come up with to link Khushrenada to the murder?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"There was a shoeprint in the Persian rug, in Merquise's blood, that matched a very exclusive type of shoe Khushrenada was known to wear. There was also bruising on Merquise's shoulders and wrists—proving he was restrained, and that he put up a bit of a struggle. They can positively say it took two people to hold him on his knees."

I nodded. "Anything else?"

"There was a DNA match for Khushrenada on a wine glass on the counter. My guess would be he drank a toast to his fallen enemy?"

"That would be his style," I agreed. "Do you think it's enough?"

"If the jury believed Maxwell, yes. But if they buy into Tsubarov's theory that Maxwell was angry enough to kill his lover, who knows? It's still a bit of a tossup."

I scowled, once again remembering how Tsubarov badgered and accused Duo on the stand.

"Don't worry," Captain Po said evenly. "If anyone can pull this off, it's Noventa."

"I just want Duo's sacrifice to matter," I sighed.

"So do I," she said with a slight frown, looking like she wanted to say more, and then shaking her head and stepping off the elevator as the doors dinged open. "Come—let's get you the key and the paperwork for the storage facility. Then you can get back to your down time."

I tagged along, still feeling a bit detached from the familiar surroundings, and when we stepped into my boss' outer office, Agent Alexander was waiting, his cool gaze raking over me rather appraisingly.

"Yuy," he greeted with a polite incline of his head.

I almost replied with "dickhead," which I knew would have made Duo laugh until he hiccupped. But instead I nodded back. "Alexander."

Then I fixed a suspicious look on him. "Why are you still here? Merquise's murder is not a federal case, and Duo's not here for you to try to pull into one." I narrowed my eyes. "If you lied to us back at the hospital—." A flicker of hope flared once again in my gut.

"No one lied to you, Yuy. Maxwell's gone. Although, if you'd let the professionals take over from the moment you got him to the courthouse, none of this might have—."

"Agent Alexander!" snapped Po, using her flesh-stripping glare on him so hard that he immediately shut up.

I had my fists clenched at my sides, but could feel my whole body practically trembling with the urge to beat the shit out of the smug agent. He didn't need to throw Duo's death in my face—I'd done enough wallowing in guilt all on my own.

"Yuy—my office."

I followed my boss inside, my jaw clenched so tightly it's a wonder I didn't break teeth.

She fished in her desk and pulled out a key and some paperwork, setting them on the side nearest me. "This is the key to the storage facility, and the paperwork authorizing the release of Maxwell's things. You can pick them up, put the key and the release form in this envelope, and drop it in their outside box as you leave."

I took the key and shoved it into my pocket. "Captain—."

She looked up expectantly.

"Please—tell me this is all an elaborate hoax—that they've simply whisked Duo off into hiding—."

She shook her head. "No. I'm afraid not."

"Fuck."

She studied my face for a moment, and then a faint frown creased her forehead. "What was the nature of your relationship with Maxwell?"

I looked up quickly, seeing the dawning of suspicion on her face, and all I could wonder was why it took her so goddamned long to catch on.

"None of your damn business," I said curtly, picking up the key and the paperwork, and turning to leave. "I'll call you when I feel like coming back to work."

"Yuy!"

I stopped at the door with my back to her.

"Clearly the stress of this assignment got to you in a major way," she said quietly, her voice very firm. "You'll remain in leave status until the department psychologist clears you to return. And I'd like you to start seeing her as soon as she can schedule you in."

"Yeah, I'll check my appointment book," I muttered, striding quickly out before she could think of anything else for me to do.

Alexander hastily stepped aside as I stalked past, apparently knowing I was just looking for an excuse to deck his sorry ass. But I paused and turned back…and did it anyway.

I mean, why the Hell not? I was already out on stress leave. What did I have to lose? And I was pretty sure any competent psychologist could come up with a very valid and reasonable explanation for why I did it.

As for me, I just hated the man's attitude.

He looked up from the floor where he'd fallen when my fist struck his jaw. "Feel better, detective?"

"Much." And it was true. Belting the arrogant bastard smack in the face did a world of good for my mood.

Duo would have been proud of me.

* * *

That thought carried me through the rest of the morning, as I drove to the depository on Avenue Royale, only to find it closed on Thursdays.

Well that was damned inconvenient. Just when I'd come out of my stupor enough to give a damn about the mysterious contents in the lockbox, I'd have to wait to find out what they were.

So I continued on to the storage facility, driving around back to the space the department had rented. When I opened up the storage bay, I was amazed at how few boxes were stacked inside.

Hadn't Duo owned a damned thing in the world?

I filled up the back seat of my car with the boxes, dropped the key and paperwork off, and headed back to my apartment, remembering to pick up Mrs. Walters' flowers on the way.

When I got there, I was struck with a sudden case of awkwardness, not quite certain how to present flowers to a woman I'd only actually spoken to once. It took several minutes for me to screw up my courage and ring her doorbell.

But the way her face lit up when she opened the door made it all worthwhile. She gushed over the simple flower arrangement, fussed over the card, and repeatedly assured me it had been no bother at all to help me get my car started. Then she ended up forcing a plate of cookies on me before she'd let me go.

As I unlocked my door (yes, I'd remembered to lock it since Chang and Catherine's intrusion the other day) I wondered how this trading of kind gestures worked. Did I now owe the woman a thank-you for the cookies? At this rate, I'd never catch up.

My phone was ringing as I stepped inside, and I kicked the door shut, turning to loop the chain through the little slot before jogging into the kitchen to pick up.

"Yuy."

"Hi, it's Quatre. How _are _you?"

I sighed, setting down the plate of cookies and biting back a sarcastic barb. "As well as can be expected," I replied noncommittally.

"I understand. Look—Captain Po called and left me a message. She said you were picking up Duo's things out of storage."

"Yes. Would you like me to drop them off at your office, or home?"

"Actually, I talked to Trowa, and he thought maybe you should keep them. Duo would want—."

"No!" I said sharply. "Do you think I really need constant reminders, Winner? Does Barton? I don't. I really don't."

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered quickly.

"You're his attorney. Isn't it up to you to handle his belongings?"

"Well, yes, but—I'm sort of busy. I agreed to help Noventa with the rest of the Khushrenada case, and it's taking up a lot of time."

Oh. When he put it that way, I could hardly argue. If he was working to make sure the smug bastard who'd caused Duo's death got put away for life, I had to help in any way possible.

"What do you want me to do with them?" I sighed.

"If you could sort through everything," he suggested. "That would be a big help. Maybe divide it by category. Trowa could take the clothing to the orphanage—."

"_Duo's_ clothing?" I said in disbelief.

"Well, some of it, anyway. The clubbing outfits could go to someone at The Jungle maybe."

"Okay."

"And I'll sell off anything of value in order to donate the proceeds to Father Maxwell for the kids. Knick-knacks and stuff could even go in a tag sale for the orphanage."

"Fine."

"And of course, if there's anything you'd like to hang onto, for sentimental reasons, you know you're welcome to."

I swallowed. "I know."

"I really appreciate this, Heero," he said quickly. "I know it's hard for you. But I honestly think you're the right person to do it."

I didn't think so. Not at all. I thought Trowa would be much better suited to sift through the remains of Duo's meager life. After all, he'd shared more of it than I had. It was far more likely there'd be things among Duo's belongings that held some significance for him, than for me.

But if Winner was working on the case, Trowa was probably helping out as much as possible.

"I'll let you know when I've got it sorted," I said wearily.

"Thanks," he said brightly. "I, um, should get back to work. I'm trying to track down some financial data on that Schbeiker girl—." He gave a low, almost menacing chuckle. "Her slander won't hold up on cross, I promise."

I felt an actual smile spread across my face. "I think maybe I love you, Winner," I managed teasingly.

"Don't let Trowa hear you say that." There was a short pause. "And it's good to hear you smile."

"How can you hear a smile?" I wondered.

"Trust me. You can. Bye for now!"

I hung up the phone feeling unaccountably better than I had all day, and dug my keys back out of my pocket, wondering if Mrs. Walters' teenage son would like to earn a few bucks helping me carry boxes.

I ended up doing it myself, still a bit uneasy about the thought of trading favors with the neighbors. It took five trips to my car, back up the elevator, and down the long hallway to my apartment—but eventually I had the boxes stacked neatly in the foyer.

Then I made myself a frozen dinner, and turned on the news, dozing off halfway through a boring broadcast about an animal rescue group in Peru. I mean, honestly…with the Khushrenada case all over the papers, you'd think they'd have no space in the evening news for fluff stories. But apparently they did. And it put me right to sleep.

I woke up around nine o'clock, knowing instantly that I'd never get back to sleep, so I decided I might as well begin the process of dissecting Duo's belongings. I grabbed my bottle of Jack Daniels, and set to work.

Midnight found me surrounded by open boxes in the middle of my living room floor, beginning to sort things by disposal method.

There was an ample box of jeans, tee shirts with rude sayings, sweatshirts and socks. There was also an even bigger box of leather clothing—pants, vests, wrist cuffs and collars. I wasn't sure whether they were for clubbing or stripping out of, but I was reasonably certain they weren't suitable for the orphanage. I figured Father Maxwell could sort through the tee shirts and weed out the cruder ones—or use them to polish statues or something. But I didn't want to cause the man a heart attack by sending the other stuff.

As far as valuables went, Duo had owned a couple of very nice watches that I guessed came from Merquise, and an assortment of finely-crafted knives. There were a couple of belts and bracelets that probably contained a fair amount of silver—so I added them to the "valuable" box, along with some leather boots, a jacket, and saddlebags from his motorcycle.

When it came to knick-knacks, there were hardly any—a couple of coffee mugs with snide sayings on them, a few books, and some playing cards—shit like that. I wondered if Duo's life with a gang had taught him not to hang onto objects. I knew his music and his sketchbooks were vitally important to them, since he'd brought them along on our trip. But the rest of his stuff seemed singularly disposable.

Then I looked around my apartment and realized that if my own belongings were shoved into a bunch of boxes—minus the furniture or kitchen supplies—they probably wouldn't take up much more space than Duo's things.

It looked like neither one of us was a packrat.

As I absently pulled a black garment out of a box, I blinked in surprise at the sight of the priest's collar and fringe. Shit—I hadn't expected to find that among his things—but it brought to mind an image of him sliding that silky fabric off his shoulder, indigo eyes smoldering, and a teasing smirk on those perfect lips.

My throat constricted at the thought that I'd never again see that graceful strut of his—or the impish grin—or the half-lidded look of pure lust.

_Goddamnit! _I was a cop. You'd think I could objectively sort through a few leftover belongings without breaking down, wouldn't you?

_Right._

I hit the jackpot on the final box—there, under some folded sheets and blankets, was a stack of sketch pads, and a shoebox full of pictures.

I almost didn't dare open it, glancing at the nearly-empty bottle on the coffee table. But then I decided to just go for it.

The funny thing was that most of the pictures weren't of Duo, but of people he must have cared about. There were a lot of Trowa, of course, and quite a few of Catherine. There were also a few he'd taken at the orphanage, though not as many as I expected. But Father Maxwell had said he had several sketch books of pictures Duo drew of the kids, so I figured Duo also gave them most of the photos he took.

Naturally, there were a number of pictures of Zechs—one with him wearing an apron and looking peeved as hell at the man holding the camera. I actually managed to laugh at that one. Others showed him playing a piano, his expression so intense I doubted he even knew the shots had been taken, and reading a book, wearing glasses that looked very scholarly on his regal face. Damn, the man _was _gorgeous. And photogenic.

Not in a class with Duo, of course, but then who was?

Deeper in the box were a couple of very faded and lined pictures—one of them showing Duo with his arm across the shoulders of a sandy-haired boy with a Reapers tattoo that matched my lover's. Solo? He'd kept a picture of the asshole who broke his heart?

Well why not? I already knew Duo hadn't given his heart lightly. So of course, he couldn't have just taken it back. Instead, he'd carried a memento of the love that had eluded him. I wondered if the pang I felt in my midsection was the same as his whenever he'd looked at that picture.

In the very bottom of the box were a few pictures of Duo by himself. I thought maybe Trowa had taken them, though it was impossible to tell. They were candid shots of Duo laughing…sitting on his bike trying to look tough…hanging upside down on a swing set in what looked like a park of some kind…lying on his stomach sketching…

I ended up in bed, a picture of Duo playing in a pile of autumn leaves on my pillow, that stupid Reapers jacket clutched in my arms, and an empty bottle of whiskey dangling from my lax fingers as I finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next day, with my hangover firmly entrenched in my skull, I gathered up the boxes I'd sorted, and labeled them for their respective recipients. Then I tried calling Winner's office to tell him they were ready.

"I'm sorry, but Mister Winner won't be available for some time," his secretary told me firmly.

"But—I have some personal effects from a—deceased client," I managed, fumbling with my free hand for the bottle of aspirin while I juggled the phone with the other.

"Oh. I suppose you could leave them here at the office. He plans to stop in from time to time; but he's assisting the District Attorney with a case—."

"I _know _that," I growled irritably. "He said to let him know when I had the stuff sorted. He didn't say anything about dropping it off."

"Would you like to leave a message? I can call you tomorrow with his reply."

"Never mind," I sighed. "I'll bring the stuff over."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll appreciate that, Mister—?"

"Good bye," I snapped, hanging up the phone, and wrenching open the bottle of aspirin, shaking three of them out onto my palm and tossing them into my mouth.

I washed them down with a bottle of stale beer I'd left on the counter at some point, and stuffed two of Mrs. Walters' cookies into my mouth as a surrogate breakfast. Then I set about carrying the sorted boxes downstairs to my car.

It was almost noon before I was ready to go. But then, considering I'd slept until after nine, that wasn't half-bad.

A steady rain had moved in overnight, and as I pulled out of the garage, I flipped on the headlights and wipers, and headed downtown towards Winner's high-rise office building.

It actually was a good thing I only had one box full of valuable items, since I had to park on the street and dash inside with it clutched in my arms.

I half-expected the elevator to be out of order—but it wasn't, and I soon arrived at the posh suite of offices on the top floor.

A young woman with tanned skin looked up at me and smiled as I stepped off the elevator. "Welcome to Winner and Associates—which attorney have you come to—?"

I plunked the box onto her desk. "This is for Quatre Winner. Tell him Heero Yuy left it, and that I'll deliver the rest of the boxes to the recipients we discussed yesterday."

"Uh—okay—," she began.

I turned on my heel and walked back out, rubbing my temples with my fingertips as I rode the elevator back to the lobby.

Hangovers are a bitch. Not that I deserved any less, considering the amount of whiskey I'd consumed.

Did I ever mention I tend to be an angry drunk? Well, I'm even worse when I'm hung over.

The rain had intensified, and my dash to my car left me soaked, which only added to my feeling that the universe was against me. The feeling I'd had ever since losing Duo.

When I pulled up outside the Maxwell Church Orphanage, I had to steel myself for the encounter. I didn't relish seeing the too-knowing priest. I was afraid if he launched into a sermon about God's grand design, I might be tempted to knock him on his ass harder than I had Agent Alexander.

But I lucked out. Sister Helen answered the door, telling me the Father was teaching a class and I could come back later if I needed to see him. When I explained I was just dropping off some clothing, sheets and towels, she sent two brawny boys in their early teens to help me carry them in.

Then, before she could invite me to stay for tea or wait for Father Maxwell to finish teaching, I bade her a good afternoon and went on my way.

The last couple of boxes in my back seat were slated for Barton, and I realized I had no idea where he lived. So I just drove to The Jungle, figuring that's where they'd end up anyway.

Ms. Noin was working the bar when I walked in, and she gave me a curious look, eyeing my wet, bedraggled appearance. "Raining out?" she teased.

I glared flatly at her. "No—I had an unfortunate encounter with the lawn sprinklers on the way in."

She laughed delightedly—there _was _no lawn, let alone sprinklers. But then she sobered when I didn't join in. "Uh—can I help you?"

"I have a couple of boxes in my car that I'd like to leave for Trowa Barton."

"Oh. He's—not working right now."

"I know that," I sighed. "I assume he works nights?"

"No, he's not working at _all_," she elaborated.

"I see." Now, why had I thought that while I was suffering from depression over Duo's death, Trowa wouldn't be? "Do you have his home address?"

She shook her head. "I don't think you'll find him there, either. He was pretty interested in the Khushrenada case. It resumed today, and I think he plans to be there as much as he can."

"Ah. Okay then—could I just leave the stuff here with you? It's some of Duo's outfits—ones that your—performers might have a use for."

She smiled rather sadly. "Of course you can leave it. I'll put it aside for whenever Trowa comes back—though I can't guarantee when that'll be."

"I understand."

Her forehead creased in a frown. "I think maybe you do," she said slowly. "You know, the first time I met you, when you came in here looking for Duo, I'd have pegged you for a stone-cold cop interested in nothing but the case. And yet at Duo's funeral—and now—you seem, different."

"I am different," I admitted glancing past her to the fully stocked bar and wondering if a couple of shots would do any harm.

"Human," she added, nodding to herself.

I snorted wryly. "Unfortunately. Where shall I put the boxes?"

"Just haul 'em in, and I'll tuck them into my office," she said with a casual shrug.

She was even nice enough to stand and hold the door open for me so I could run from the club to the car and back, twice, with a minimum of time out in the rain.

I thanked her brusquely and resisted the urge to consume enough whiskey to numb my emotions again for awhile. Then I headed for the depository on Avenue Royale.

When I checked in at the desk, I had only to show them the key and tell them the number of the lockbox. It struck me as odd, since most safety deposit boxes require pre-designated signatories, and make you show identification to get in.

But apparently this one catered to people who wanted no one knowing their name or their business. Risky. For all they knew, drugs could be dropped off and picked up with the simple exchange of a key.

I wondered if that was how Zechs had conducted his illicit business ventures, and made a mental note to bring it to Captain Po's attention if I was ever allowed to return to work. Maybe the place should be checked out with a couple of drug-sniffing dogs…

When I pulled the lockbox from its compartment, the attendant showed me into a private room, and I waited until I was alone to set it on the table and lift the lid.

I wasn't eager to see what was in it. Well, I was and I wasn't. On the one hand, there had to be something that Khushrenada would kill for—and on the other, there was probably a personal message from Merquise to Duo.

But I had to know.

There was an envelope on top, with Duo's name in bold script. I decided to look at that first, since it was what I dreaded the most.

I was careful to lift it by the edges, not wanting to destroy any potential fingerprints, in case the contents of that box ended up in a courtroom.

And then I smoothed out the page and read what was essentially Zechs Merquise's Last Will and Testament.

_Dear Duo,_

_If you're reading this letter, it means I'm dead, and that you remembered what I told you about leaving something for you. First let me say how sorry I am that I couldn't keep my promise. I had every intention of starting a new life with you. When I promised you a new start, I truly meant to carry through on it. And my only regret is my failure to do so._

_I knew when I chose to leave the syndicate, that the odds were I wouldn't survive the attempt. But I'd hoped._

_Oh, how I'd hoped._

_You made me reevaluate my priorities, love, and want more than the glamour and prestige of being a "high roller." While you claimed that I taught you about manners and the finer things in life, you taught me about the important things, such as friendship, loyalty, and love. I'd never had a lover who wouldn't cancel his plans for taking a bunch of orphans to the circus if I offered a weekend flight to Paris. But you did. All of my money and all of my power seemed ineffectual in gaining your regard. So I had to resort to extreme measures; I had to be myself._

_And amazingly that was enough._

_I will be forever grateful for the way you brought me back to myself, and reminded me of the idealistic young man I used to be. As unaware as you are of your warmth and charm, you probably will laugh at the very notion that you brought out my youthful ambitions. But you did._

_Now, since I'm clearly not there to watch over you any more—and I ache for causing you the grief I know you feel—I want to at least ensure your safety and security. In this box you'll find two more envelopes. One contains a sum of cash sufficient to help you relocate to a safe place. Don't chide me for paranoia, love. If Treize was behind my death, you will not be truly safe if you stay in this city. I don't care if you leave temporarily, or permanently—but leave you must! _

_And if you are pursued, the contents of the other envelope will provide you with ammunition to use against Treize. I copied classified files, which I won't explain in detail. But if you get word to Trieze that you have, among other things, a list of every FBI agent on his payroll, I can guarantee he won't dare touch you. Simply inform him that in the event of__ your untimely death, the disks will fall into the hands of the police, and make sure you have a friend you trust with that task. Nanashi comes to mind, as I'm sure he'll be there for you as he has in the past. Just tell him not to send them to the FBI, as the corruption goes from top to bottom in that organization. _

_Lastly, love, don't waste time grieving over me for very long. I led a long and rich life, and yet didn't really understand how to enjoy it until I met you. You enriched my life in ways I can't even explain. You are vibrant, sensual, bright, and fiery—and I expect you to stay that way. I also expect you to live life to the fullest. Find yourself someone worthy of your love, and never forget that you deserve the best—the very best of everything._

_Yours, lovingly, Zechs_

I blinked back tears at the end of the letter, and folded it carefully back up. "He did deserve the best, Zechs. And neither you nor I was up to the challenge. You failed to stay with him, and I failed to protect him. We both fucked up royally."

I opened the next envelope and began counting out the stack of bills. I stopped at around a hundred thousand, knowing there was easily ten times that, or more. There was also a short note stating that the bills were unmarked, untraceable, and legally obtained from Zechs' legitimate business ventures. Apparently he didn't want Duo starting a new life with tainted money. And I couldn't help but respect the effort he made to insure that.

The final envelope contained several cds. They had no markings or labels of any kind, but I guessed they were the incriminating evidence against Treize that Zechs had claimed they were. I'd have to check it out when I got back to my laptop.

Carefully sliding all three envelopes from the lockbox into the manila envelope the attendant had provided, I closed it back up and then went out and followed the guy over to replace the empty container in its niche in the wall.

I wanted to examine the data on the disks, before deciding how to proceed with it; Zechs had hinted that there was a lot more than a list of names, and considering the number of cds, I had to assume there was a _lot _more. I also guessed there might be some encryption, and hoped the letter to Duo contained a hint at the password.

My interest in the project drove away the lingering hangover—and yet I'd soon find it gave me an all new kind of headache.


	62. Life After Duo

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Two: Life After Duo

I stood at the window of my living room, sipping coffee and gingerly rubbing at the lingering pain in my forehead.

I'd been trying for over a week to decrypt the goddamned disks Merquise had left for Duo, with no luck. I'd tried all the possible combinations of Duo's name for a password: DMaxwell, Duo, Maxwell, DM, DuoM. None of them worked.

Then I'd expanded my attempts to include Shinigami, Shini, Reapers, and even indigo, chestnut, braid, and sexy. I'd used number and letter combinations, similar to the little phone number code Duo and Trowa had used.

Nothing worked.

I was beginning to think Zechs had outsmarted himself. Why would he leave information vital to Duo's survival, but not use a password Duo would know?

I'd been living in a self-imposed exile—fending off daily calls from Wufei, who had been given clearance to return to work, while I hadn't. Yeah, that pissed me off. During one brief conversation he told me he'd made the obligatory visit to the department psychologist and been cleared for work. He urged me to do the same.

I'd told him to go fuck himself and I'd see the shrink when I fuckin' felt like it.

I hadn't heard a thing from Trowa or Quatre—but then, they had each other. Why would they give a shit about me, or how empty my life was without Duo?

All I had to keep me going were those stupid disks, and the conviction that they'd destroy all Khushrenada had built. I wanted that very badly—to see him brought low. I wanted to be the one to do it. And I wanted to tell him it would never have happened at all if he'd just left Duo alone and let him live in peace.

Funny how Duo's thirst for revenge had rubbed off on me—wasn't it?

Not that I cared so much about getting even for Merquise's murder; that was _Duo's _passion, not mine. I was intent on striking back against Khushrenada for what had happened to Duo. Don't they say "hate begets hate?"

Damn straight.

I don't know how long I'd been staring out that window, watching but not seeing the rain run in streaks down the dirty pane, pooling on the sill and dribbling over the edge. But when a knock on the door startled me out of my daze, the coffee in my hand had gone cold, while the gun in my other hand had warmed from my white-knuckled grip.

_Gun?_

Now how did _that _get there?

I shoved it into my shoulder holster, after making sure the safety was on.

The knock sounded again—louder—so I went to the door and pulled it open the four inches the chain would allow.

"Heero?" Quatre's worried face was framed by the door and jamb.

"What do you want?" I asked with a scowl, not pleased by the lawyer's arrival at all. "Shouldn't you be in court?"

"It's Sunday." He paused, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "May I come in?"

"For what?"

He had a bundle tucked under one arm—it looked like it was wrapped in velvet—and he patted it with his free hand. "I have something to deliver."

I bit back an impulse to tell him to go to Hell. "Just—stuff it through." I held a hand out, but he shrugged helplessly.

"It won't fit."

Indeed, the object looked just a little too wide for the narrow opening. "Then leave it on the stoop."

He gave a frustrated sigh. "It's valuable."

"Oh, for Christ's sake—." I pushed the door shut, took off the chain, and opened it to allow him entry.

He beamed a smile at me as he walked in, though it faded as he looked around my living room at the scattered take-out containers and empty beer bottles. "How have you been?" he asked, turning to face me so abruptly we almost collided.

I gaped for a moment and then shrugged. "Just swell," I told him unenthusiastically.

He arched an eyebrow, looking around at the mess.

"It's the maid's week off," I quipped mirthlessly. "Now what did you come here for?"

He turned and held out the bundle. "To bring you this."

"And what is 'this'?" I asked, reaching for it.

"Duo's ashes."

I jerked my arms back sharply, stumbling backwards a step or two. "Jesus Christ, Winner! Get the fuck out of here, and take—take _that _with you!" I couldn't hide the trembling of my hands as I pointed towards the door. "Get out!"

"Heero—."

I started to reach for my gun, and he hastily set the velvet bundle on the hall table. "I'll just go then—."

"Don't you _dare _leave that!" By now I had my gun out and was slipping off the safety.

He put his hands on his hips, the glare from the aquamarine eyes preventing me from actually raising the weapon. "It was Duo's request," he said sternly. "Agent Alexander sent them to my office with a note saying that before he—died—he said you should be given the ashes. He said you'd know what to do with them."

"Well I don't!" I snapped, feeling an irrational upwelling of panic. I didn't want a box of ashes. I wanted Duo—alive, and warm, and in my arms. I wanted to hear his laugh and see the light dance in those gorgeous eyes. I wanted to feel his body against mine—his lips devouring my mouth—his fingers digging into my shoulders as I made love to him.

I found myself sitting on the floor, Quatre's arms wrapped around me as I sobbed helplessly against his shoulder. I wasn't sure how I got there—only that at some point my knees gave out—kind of like my sanity.

"God, Heero, I'm sorry!" he breathed into my ear. "I told Alexander how hard it would be—."

"Hard?" I gasped out, trying rather unsuccessfully to regain control of myself. "It's fuckin' impossible, Quatre. He's gone and I can't—. It's like I can't even get up the energy to _breathe_." I shook my head. "How am I supposed to live without him?"

"The same way we all will," he replied, his own voice shaky and weak. "One day at a time."

I pushed away from him, but didn't try to get up. I had a feeling my legs still wouldn't support my weight. "I keep thinking about how I treated him—. How fucking cruel I was to him at first." I blinked back more tears and used the edge of my grubby tee shirt to dry my face a bit. "He'd just lost Merquise, and all I could think about was a stupid police investigation. I didn't give a rat's ass how much pain he was in." I felt my stomach clench with pain of its own. "An' now I know how he felt—." I looked at Quatre with a scowl. "How the hell did he bear it?"

Quatre shook his head. "I have no idea. I swear, if I'd gone through all he did in his life, I'd have never made it to puberty." The lawyer reached to smooth the hair back out of my face in a rather intimate gesture. "But Duo was made of sterner stuff. And even after losing Zechs, he didn't give up, did he? He kept moving forward, even when it was obviously hard for him. And when you finally admitted your feelings for him, I think it gave him a new lease on life—a new reason to not give in to the pain."

I glared back at him. "Don't try to tell me to move on with my life and find someone else. There _is _no one else. There never _will _be. Not like Duo."

"Shit, Heero—I'm not saying you should move on. Not yet."

"Not ever!" My hands were fisted in my shirt, which was probably the only thing that kept me from belting the fucking cheerleader of an attorney. "There was no one before Duo and there'll be no one after him!"

"So what do you plan to do? Lock yourself in a filthy apartment with an endless supply of beer and a box of ashes?" came the caustic response. "You're going to go right back to burying yourself in your work and hiding away in your empty apartment?"

"Why not? It worked before."

Quatre sat back and gazed at me with—disappointment. "It's not what Duo would want for you."

"Stop doing that! Stop throwing his wishes in my face! He's not here to give me a fucking reason to go on—so stop telling me that's what he'd want me to do!"

"He'd want you to at least keep the people you've learned to allow into your life. Wufei…Trowa…me…Catherine…"

I glared heatedly at him. "You and Barton haven't exactly been camped on my doorstep," I pointed out.

"No—we've been at the courthouse all day every day—going over testimony in the evenings."

"That's nice," I growled irritably. "I'm happy you have each other and something to do."

He reached out and untangled one of my hands from the fabric of my shirt, holding it between his. "Don't shut us out, Heero. Let us help, even if there's not much we can do. Just—go through the motions with us for awhile. You think we're all not hurting as much as you are? Do you think just because he loved you that you're the only one who feels his loss?"

"I—don't know—," I admitted.

"Yeah, well, it's time you found out," he replied sadly. "Trowa's been a wreck. Going to court every day is the only way I can get him to move. But it's taking a toll; I can barely get him to eat, let alone sleep. Even Wufei and Catherine are just—crushed. They put on brave faces and do their jobs and try to act like everything's okay. But it's obvious that they feel a vital light has gone out of their lives. And so do I."

That was a fine way to put it—a vital light had gone out. It almost had me sobbing on Quatre's shoulder again, except that enough of my self-respect had kicked in that I would be damned if I'd break down that much.

"What do you want from me, Winner?" I sighed, wanting him out of my apartment—with his box of ashes, his sympathy, and those fucking accusing blue eyes.

"I just want you to keep in touch," he said firmly. "If I picked you up, would you come to court with us tomorrow?"

"No. Not that," I said quickly.

His face fell in disappointment.

"Look—if I had to sit there and listen to Khushrenada lie—or his bastard of an attorney make accusations against Duo—you _know _there'd be bloodshed."

A faint smile twitched his lips.

I pulled away from him and got to my feet, carefully skirting the table with the velvet-wrapped bundle on it, and heading into my kitchen for another beer.

He tagged along and out of habit, I offered him one, which he took with a slightly wider smile, reading the brand on the label and immediately catching its significance.

"Look—it's not as bad as—." I gestured around my squalid apartment. "—as it seems. I've been working on a—project."

His keen eyes went to my laptop, which was on a singularly tidy desk in a corner of my living room. It was still running a decryption program that was failing miserably to decode Merquise's disks.

"I'm not saying that means I'm okay with—what happened. But—I'm functional," I pointed out.

"Marginally," he conceded, his expression critical.

"Well that's as good as it's going to get for now," I said flatly. "You talk about going through the motions? Well I _am_. I'm doing the only thing I can do to occupy my mind so that once in a while I forget how much I hate life."

He sighed, finishing his beer in a few long swallows and then setting down the bottle. "I should be getting back to Trowa," he said wearily. "He wouldn't come with me for this."

"Do you blame him?"

"No." He ran a hand through his blonde bangs. "Just—can I get you to agree to come to dinner with us one day next week? At my house. Nothing fancy. Just you, me, and Trowa."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Fine. Call me." I gestured him towards the door with my own bottle of beer, and he finally gave ground and headed that way.

But he paused in the hallway, turning around to fix a worried gaze on me. "Will you call me if you think of anything you need? Promise?"

"If I can ever think of something I need that you can provide—I will."

All I needed was Duo—and no one could give him back to me.

* * *

In retrospect, I should not have been surprised when Wufei showed up late the next afternoon. Winner had probably advised him of the mess my apartment was, and that I needed to be dragged out of my shell again.

_Damned lawyers!_

My partner arrived right after his shift at work, and when I tried keeping the door chain on so he couldn't enter, he threatened to go get the super and some bolt cutters. So I finally let him in.

"Why are you here, Chang?" I asked wearily, walking to the laptop and closing the screen before he got an eyeful of a less-than-legal program I'd stooped to using.

Did I mention my ill-spent youth, and the hacking skills I'd perfected? Yeah, well, there were plenty of underground sites where you could find all sorts of topnotch hacking programs. And I'd been to all of them…still with no luck.

"I've come to take you to dinner," he said firmly. "You will shower and change, and we will leave."

I crossed my arms stubbornly, and he began gathering up the trash on my coffee table.

"I have no intention of leaving or being dissuaded," he commented matter-of-factly. "So you may as well just resign yourself to the inevitable."

Thus, less than an hour later, I found myself sitting at a pleasant restaurant in the downtown area, with Wufei across from me, nattering on about the wine selection and the rave reviews the place got.

In spite of my lack of appetite, I let him coerce me into ordering a meal, and then resumed peeling the label off the dark imported beer I'd insisted on.

"It pains me to see you like this," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Then don't look," I muttered sullenly.

"Yuy—."

"Don't!"

He was silent for awhile, carefully nibbling on a bread stick and looking anywhere but at me.

But eventually guilt started pricking at my conscience, and I gave a sigh of my own. "You can't make this any easier for me, Chang. I know you understand; I know you care. But since you _have _been through it, you must know that at this point there's nothing you can do to help."

He gave a quiet sigh. "I know that, Yuy. I'm not stupid. But at least I can make sure you eat now and then."

I grudgingly shrugged one shoulder.

"And I can remind you that you're not alone."

"Winner already tried that." I grimaced at the memory of breaking down in front of the blonde. "He brought the—ashes."

"Fuck," mumbled my partner, sounding genuinely pained.

"I almost shot him," I admitted a bit sheepishly.

"I don't blame you." Wufei sipped his tea, dark eyes somber. "It makes it too—real—doesn't it?"

"Well, the autopsy photos had already pretty much done the job." I set my bottle of beer down with a clunk. "Let's talk about something else, Chang."

"Okay." He set down a half-eaten bread stick. "Catherine and I are engaged."

I looked up sharply. "You're joking!"

He blushed and looked away. "Actually, I'm not."

"No shit? Really?" I persisted, finding it as hard to believe as Duo's—as—other recent events.

"Really," he said earnestly.

I gazed hard at my partner, looking for a trace of uncertainty or indecision, but I saw none. "Wow. That's—very impulsive of you. Isn't it?"

He winced a little, looking less composed. "Do you think I should have waited?"

Ah—so he wasn't as confident in his decision as he'd tried to act. He was looking for—advice? Approval?

Something.

And while it was on the tip of my tongue to say he hardly knew the woman—who was I to talk?

He knew she was smart, pretty, and good in a crisis—and that she was capable of defending herself, and adapting to any situation. She was a woman worthy of his respect, as well as his affection. And knowing my partner, that was a necessary part of the equation.

"Wufei," I said in all seriousness. "If you love that woman—and I think you do—why wait? Why waste time picking apart the pros and cons, when you could be enjoying each other's company? _Go_ for it. Don't end up with nothing but regrets."

He gave a relieved smile. "So you don't think I made a mistake—asking so soon?"

"Not if it's what your heart was telling you to do."

"It was."

He looked at me with a slight frown. "Do you feel you have nothing left but regrets?"

I opened my mouth to say I had a million regrets—for how I treated Duo the first time we met, and for resisting his advances when I could have been savoring his kiss—but then I realized when it came down to it, my only true regret was that our time had been cut short. The rest of it was _so _worth it.

"Chang—I will forever be grateful for this whole stupid mess—for meeting Duo and falling in love with him, for getting to know a partner I'd underestimated for years, for learning that all lawyers aren't sharks and all strippers aren't lowlife scum." I looked up with clearer eyes. "No, I guess there's really only the one regret."

He smiled, though his eyes looked suspiciously bright. "And here I thought you'd be as slow as I was."

I shook my head. "Ye of little faith."

The waitress arrived with our meals then, and I found I had a little bit of an appetite after all.

"So—tell me about the trial," I suggested when we were about halfway through our meals.

Chang raised an eyebrow. "Sure you're up for that?"

"If I can handle hearing that you've already proposed to Catherine, I think I can deal with a little update on the case."

"Very well. Barton got Noventa to put him on the stand as a rebuttal witness to that Schbeiker girl. He explained knowing her from Sanc, and that she had a bit of a 'thing' for Duo at the start, until she found out he was gay. Then he said he knew about the fight Duo and Merquise had—that Duo moped around his place most of the week, debating whether to give Merquise another chance. He mentioned the altercation at Sanc and toyed with the idea of calling and apologizing for slugging him. And on the evening of the murder, Duo called Trowa, all but bubbling over to tell him Merquise had given him a plausible explanation and that he was going to 'go out on a limb' and try again."

I felt a little of the tension lift from my shoulders. And only then did I realize how much it had bothered me that Khushrenada's people had been able to make the jury doubt my lover. I hadn't liked the thought that they might actually believe some of the shit the defense team had been slinging.

But thanks to Trowa, maybe they had a clearer picture of the truth now.

"He also described the state Duo was in when he showed up in the middle of the night—soaking wet, terrified and grief-stricken." Chang twirled some pasta on his fork, looking a bit smug. "If there was a dry eye in the audience when he finished, I sure didn't see it."

He looked up with a smile. "Barton looked good up there—calm and composed. Tsubarov never even got a flinch out of him."

_Good for Trowa!_

I managed a wan smile. "Tell Trowa I said thanks."

"I expect you to do that yourself."

"Chang—."

"No. Seriously. Barton needs to hear it from you. He needs to talk to someone who was as close to Duo as he was."

"I'm not—."

"You damn well _are_!" Duo was ready to spend the rest of his life with you—."

"And coincidentally enough, that's what he ended up doing!" I retorted. "Dammit, Chang, I should've taken him and disappeared—and Khushrenada be hanged! Convicting that slimeball wasn't worth losing Duo!"

"Of course not," Wufei replied in a tone of mild reproach. "I'd never say that it was. But Barton is suffering right along with you. I think you should talk to him."

"He won't understand. He has Quatre."

"And he lost his best friend—even a lover can't ease that kind of pain." My partner sighed, his expression turning pensive. "I think the reason Duo weathered Merquise's death so well was that the man was his lover, while Barton was still his best friend. He had someone who understood his pain and loss—you do too. You have Barton, and you have me."

I eyed Chang warily. "Before this assignment, I'd have said you were my partner—but not my best friend. Now—I guess you're both."

His smile was warm and genuine. "Does that mean you'll be my best man?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. "You really want me to?"

"Who else? After all, you kept shoving me into Catherine's arms—figuratively speaking."

"Duo helped."

My partner chuckled at my petulant tone and then sobered. "I just want to know that you'll still be here for my wedding. Whether you choose to stand with me or not, I want you there."

_What was that? An attempt to make me promise not to swallow a bullet in the near future?_

It was a promise I didn't feel like making. So much was still weighing on my mind. I was worried that Khushrenada might still beat the murder rap—and if he did, I couldn't promise not to take a shot at him myself.

"You're thinking awfully hard about this," came a quiet, almost questioning voice.

"I won't say I haven't wished I died there alongside Duo," I admitted.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm merely pointing out to you that your continued existence is a comfort to me, and I'd like to encourage it."

I snorted at his very obtuse way of telling me not to off myself. "Got a date picked out for the wedding?"

He smirked in response. "None whatsoever."

_Oh, he was really determined, wasn't he? An open-ended equation—and he expected me to agree to it?_

"All right, Chang," I said grudgingly. "I'll stick around for your wedding, at the very least."

"I expect a rather lengthy engagement," he continued, with a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. "Neither Catherine nor I is prone to acting in haste."

"Yeah—tell that to the guy she got with the knife in the eye," I teased.

The waitress had come to refill our water, and darted an alarmed look at me before scurrying off.

Wufei's laugh was a little more relaxed this time—his whole demeanor less tense, as he realized I was slowly coping with the loss of half my soul.

The funny thing was, I realized it as well.

It didn't hurt any less. But, much as I hated to prove Winner right, Duo would want me to live—no matter what.

And as I'd said before, I never _could _say "no" to him.

I attacked my meal with renewed vigor, as Wufei turned the conversation back to the trial by telling me how Quatre had shredded the statement from the Schbeiker girl.

First, he'd brought up Trowa's testimony—notably the part where he said that the girl had hit on Duo, been turned down, and had gotten angry. When she cautiously admitted to that much, Winner came right out and accused her of making the call to Khushrenada's private line the night of the attack on the log cabin. He suggested she did it out of spite and greed—just as she did in the case of her carefully-worded statement about the altercation at Sanc Palace.

She tried protesting—saying she wasn't the one who made the call—and he produced financial statements he'd subpoenaed from her bank, showing a sizeable deposit to her account right after the attack at the log cabin, and another just before her statement was entered into evidence at the trial.

She ended up bawling her eyes out, babbling about needing to provide for her kid, and then admitting that she'd met with Une, who offered her money if she could provide information on Duo's whereabouts.

"She claimed she needed the money so badly that she'd have done anything for it," Wufei explained as he was finishing his main course. "Winner asked if her child was sick, or in need of special care—and she admitted that he wasn't. He then asked if she was unable to provide food for the boy, and she said 'no,' and that she always made sure her son had nutritious meals. So Winner demanded to know what prompted her desperation for the money." He shook his head, looking disdainful. "She started trying to fumble for an excuse—saying she was saving for his college education—and Winner looked her in the eye and asked if her son's education was more important than a man's life. She totally broke down after that—but he managed to squeeze out an admission that her recollection of the incident at Sanc didn't include the death threat, but that they'd offered more money if she said it did."

"And she admitted to all that under oath," he added with satisfaction.

_Score! Maybe I'd have to tell Winner that I loved him again._

"Chang," I said with a shake of my head. "If it were possible, I'd offer to have Winner's baby."

He did a double-take, his face a mask of horror. "Yuy!"

I tried on my Duo-smirk for size. "Sorry—it just seemed—appropriate."

"Yes, if you were _Maxwell_," huffed my partner.

Then his face did something curious, going from amused to stricken and then settling into a sort of wistful smile.

I smiled back. "Maybe I haven't really lost him completely."

"I'd like to think we haven't," he agreed. Then he took a big swig of his tea, dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, and surreptitiously wiped his eyes.

We stayed for dessert, discussing the forensic evidence they'd started bringing into the trial, and how Khushrenada had purchased a pair of very exclusive shoes that matched the footprint in the Persian rug. Interestingly enough, the shoemaker in Italy was able to produce records of the purchase that described the shoes right down to the unique signature mark he made in the heel of every pair.

I supposed Khushrenada's lawyers would try to claim he'd given the shoes away. But it was still a tangible link to the murder scene. And it would take extreme gullibility on the part of the jurors to believe that someone other than Khushrenada had those shoes and wore them to murder Zechs Merquise.

Oh the case was shaping up nicely.

And when Chang finally dropped me off back at my apartment, I invited him up for a beer, but he politely declined, saying he had to work in the morning.

Ah—that's right—_he'd_ jumped through Po's hoops and gotten his clearance.

"In case you'd like to join me back in the land of the gainfully employed," he said with a smirk, holding out a small business card. "This has the name and number of the department psychologist. She mentioned having a bit of difficulty reaching you."

I ducked my head, taking the card. "Yes—well—why do I need her when I've got friends like you?"

My partner's face lit up, and I thought he was going to cry right then and there. But with typical Chang style, he composed himself and nodded graciously. "Glad I could be of help. And when you are ready to return, I'll be pleased to be working with you again."

I sighed as he drove off, and then headed inside, reflecting that a good, well-balanced meal was sitting on my stomach far better than the fast food I'd been subsisting on. I'd have to consider truly pulling myself back together and restocking my refrigerator with something other than dark beer and leftover takeout.

It was a disappointment when I rebooted my laptop and realized the latest program had failed to decode the disk currently inside it. I began to wonder if it was possible at all. Could Merquise have screwed something up and corrupted the files so badly they were gibberish?

I threw my jacket across the back of the chair, and settled into it, eyeing the screen with a scowl. "What the fuck am I missing? Dammit, Merquise—you left this for _Duo_. How hard could it fucking _be_?"

I'd had one program run the dictionary from start to finish, with no luck. I'd tried every proper name I could associate with Duo. What was left?

While I mulled it over, I walked around tidying up the room a bit, and stuck one of Duo's cds into my player, wondering if there was a clue in the music he'd listened to, or danced to. Maybe he and Merquise had a favorite song—_their _song.

I guessed the only song I'd ever associated with Duo was either the throbbing strip music from The Jungle, or the one he and Trowa had used for their demonstration back at the lake house.

But when I thought about it, he'd always had his music playing—even in the car. And there'd been the night at the log house, before he'd slipped out the window, when he'd been singing obnoxiously just to cover his sly plotting.

Of course, that train of thought took me back to the passes he'd been making at me—flirting in the car and at the cabin—until our precipitous tumble to that safe house floor.

Funny, but I'd seen it in his eyes earlier that night—when he told me he was going to take a shower—leaning there in the doorway with that dark light in his eyes.

I'd just seen the web site offering a reward for his death and spat out "Jesus!" as an oath.

And then it hit me.

"No, but I've been called 'Angel' a time or two."

_Angel._

A name no one would ever associate with the brassy, crude stripper and street punk. No one except maybe a—lover.

I typed it into the password block and in the blink of an eye, data began scrolling rapidly across my screen.

Angel.


	63. Securing the Evidence

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: Yes, I know the word "angel" is in the dictionary…but I was figuring the proper name "Angel" wouldn't be…so I went ahead with it last chapter. To those who noted it, I took a little artistic license on that one, k? I just really liked the idea of him having tried so many words, and missing by one capital letter.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Three: Securing the Evidence

I stared in fascination at the information scrolling across my computer screen, and marveled at how far Zechs Merquise had been willing to go to secure Duo's safety.

There was a lot more than a few names listed on a disk. There were bank account numbers, transaction records, lists of deposits, withdrawals and transfers—in short, the entire financial structure of Oz.

I swallowed at the sheer magnitude of data, and then grabbed a blank cd and set about making backup copies of the treasure I'd discovered.

It took most of the night. _As if I could have slept if I tried?_ But by dawn, I had three decrypted copies of each disk along with the encrypted originals.

I'd taken great pains to not get fingerprints on them, hoping that Merquise had left his own, which would authenticate the disks and the data in a way that would satisfy whomever I surrendered them to.

But that was my next dilemma—who should I take my discovery to?

Agent Alexander seemed the most likely candidate, not because I liked him (frankly I despised the arrogant ass) but because his name was not among the crooked FBI agents on the Oz payroll.

I tried not to be disappointed by that fact.

Sims' name, on the other hand, was on the list, and I could only assume some of the other names would match the bodies retrieved from the amusement park.

I had sort of dropped the ball on that one, now that I had time to think about it. Chang and I had been so busy guarding Duo, we'd really not bothered to ask about the investigation of the amusement park ambush.

Or at least _I_ hadn't. My partner might have, considering he was back at work and obviously more lucid than I'd been lately.

But I was catching up. I scanned and printed a couple of copies of Merquise's letter to Duo, and then sealed the originals of the letter and the cds into the manila envelope I'd gotten from the depository.

Much as I hated the thought of turning that letter, and all its personal sentiments over to the FBI, it would add to the authenticity of the cds in whatever case was brought against Oz.

Then I called my partner—the only person I could trust with a discovery of this nature.

"Chang here."

"Wufei—how would you like to watch the Oz syndicate being taken apart piece by piece?"

There was a pause. "Have you been drinking again, Yuy? You seemed so much better when I dropped you off—."

"I'm sober as a fucking judge, Chang!" I snapped out, heading for the kitchen to make coffee while we talked. "I've just been up all night long."

"And is that why you're not making sense?"

"I'm making perfect sense—but I will not discuss this over the phone. Can you get the day off?"

"I—guess. I was supposed to continue working on our reports for the time we were on our protective detail—."

"This is more important. Be here in an hour." I hung up and continued making my caffeine fix, finishing the last of Mrs. Walters' cookies, and resolving to buy something more substantial for tomorrow's breakfast.

I'd consumed two cups of coffee and taken a shower by the time Chang rapped on my door, and I was practically bouncing on the balls of my feet when I answered.

"Took you long enough!"

He walked in with a box in his hands and a sour look on his face. "Well if you didn't want me to stop for something nutritious to eat, you should have said so."

"Breakfast?" I grabbed the box and leaned in as if I were going to kiss him.

He quickly backed a step. "You _are _drunk!"

"Nope. Just—triumphant."

I set the food on the counter, jogged back to the door to make sure it was latched and the chain was in place, and then gestured Chang to my laptop. "Go. Sit. Read."

He warily edged past me and sank into the chair, flinching back as I leaned across him and punched a button.

Then I sat on an arm of the couch, eating a breakfast sandwich and drinking coffee as he stared in stunned fascination at the data on the screen.

At some point, I shoved the second sandwich into his hand, along with a cup of coffee, and he bit and chewed mechanically as he kept reading.

Finally, he sat back and looked up at me. "Is this legitimate?"

I nodded.

"Where the hell did you get this kind of information—this _much_."

"Remember when Howard came to the funeral?"

"It's hard to miss a man in a Hawaiian print shirt at a funeral," he said dryly.

"He brought me a note that Duo left him the day we borrowed the car."

Wufei nodded, waiting for me to elaborate.

"The note said Merquise had left a safety deposit box behind, with something in it that would keep Duo safe from Oz."

The dark eyes went back to the screen. "_This_?"

"Yep. Merquise was willing to take down the entire syndicate if that was the only way to protect Duo." I had to bite back my urge to say he should have done it sooner. I reminded myself that even though it was too late to save Duo, it wasn't too late to strike back on his behalf.

I held out a copy of Merquise's letter, and Chang read it with dawning realization. "Jesus Christ, Yuy—who'd have thought Zechs Merquise had it in him?"

"What—a romantic soul?"

"A heart."

"Yeah, well—as you know, Duo seemed to have a knack for bringing that out in people, didn't he?"

Wufei smiled wryly. "That he did." He gestured with the letter towards the computer screen. "So what now? What do we do with this—revelation?"

"I hate to say it, but I think Agent Alexander is the one who could best conduct the necessary investigation."

"But—he's FBI."

"He's also _not _on the list."

"No—but he's an arrogant, cocky bastard. While you and Duo were off with Noventa and I was explaining how we smuggled Maxwell into the courthouse, he kept pressuring the Captain to relinquish jurisdiction. He seemed far more interested in leveling federal charges against Khushrenada than he was about protecting Duo or getting a conviction in the Merquise case." His dark eyes sparked with anger. "Do you know they still have Trant somewhere in hiding? But they wouldn't allow him to speak at Khushrenada's trial—to corroborate Duo's testimony. He said they're 'saving him for the big fish.'"

I felt my jaw tighten, wishing I'd belted Alexander harder than I had—wondering if having Trant at the trial would have kept Une from striking at Duo.

But that was a waste of my energy, and so I brought my temper back in check, and took a few deep, calming breaths. "Well, Chang, as they say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Not that I want to get all chummy with Alexander—but I _do _want to destroy Oz—if only to wipe the cocky smirk off Khushrenada's face."

"I suppose. The end result will be the same. Khushrenada will be dethroned and his empire dismantled. I guess it doesn't really matter who carries the ball on this one."

"No, it doesn't…though I'd like very much for Khushrenada to know that he brought this upon himself…first by killing Merquise, and then Duo."

"We'll figure out a way."

"First, though, I thought I'd leave the original disks and letter in safekeeping with Winner, give one set of copies to you, keep another myself, and then take the third set to Alexander. I'll tell him if he wants to know where the originals are, he'll have to meet my terms."

Chang's eyes brightened. "Leverage."

"Exactly."

He nodded in agreement. "It is a sound plan. You'll have enough copies in circulation to ensure they can't be found and eliminated. So even if someone in Alexander's organization found out what you brought him, they couldn't hope to recover the data from all possible sources."

"Shall we head for Winner's office then?" I asked, finishing a final cup of coffee and picking up my keys off the counter.

"Actually, he'll probably be at the courthouse. I think today is the final day of testimony, and that closing arguments begin tomorrow."

"Already?" I asked in surprise.

He nodded earnestly. "They've really been pushing on this. The judge has kept both sides on track as far as testimony—no tangents and no more wasting of time. The forensics people did a great job of lining up each piece of corroborating evidence and presenting it. Really, there's not much more to tell. Une didn't get to testify—to lie about Khushrenada's whereabouts the night of the murder. Otto's dead and Trant's in FBI custody. No one seems to know where Khushrenada's limo driver ended up—but my guess would be his body will show up in some fisherman's net some day."

"So they've really wrapped it up," I said, shaking my head. "I thought it'd take months."

"Didn't we all?"

God—if Duo were here, we'd already be making plans for where we'd go once the case was completed. I'd have only had to endure a few weeks of separation, and then he'd have been relocated, and we'd have tracked each other down. _So damn close!_

"You know, if I stop by my office, presumably to pick up some work to take home, I could leave one set of disks locked in my file cabinet there," Chang pointed out as he was gathering up our empty breakfast container and napkins. "That would be safer than my apartment."

"Good idea," I agreed. "I've already put my set in the velvet pouch with the ashes."

_And I said that without wincing or grimacing in pain._

It hadn't been easy to make myself even go near those remains—but it seemed appropriate that the disks be with Merquise's "Angel" for safekeeping.

Wufei didn't comment on my choice of hiding places, but preceded me out into the hallway, watching with what I interpreted as approval while I locked up behind myself.

I knew it had bothered him to find the place unlocked the day he and Catherine had let themselves in.

We took my car, and I dropped Wufei in front of the station, waiting by the curb and hoping no overzealous traffic cop decided to ticket me.

But it took a surprisingly short amount of time for my partner to return, minus the disks, with a folder full of actual work he'd felt duty-bound to pick up.

I grinned as he got in. "You are a true goody two-shoes, Chang."

"I told you picking up work was a suitable cover."

"But I didn't expect you to actually pick any up."

"I was there. It made perfect sense," he sniffed, setting the folder down on the seat and looking offended.

I just shook my head and pulled back out onto the road, heading for the courthouse.

"Here's the plan. When we get to the courthouse, I want you to stay with the car…with the originals of the disks. Not that I'm paranoid—."

"Why not? I am." He glanced down at the sealed envelope and a second one I'd brought along. "I take it the other container has the 'sum of cash' Merquise mentioned in his letter?"

"Ah—yes."

"How much?"

"I stopped counting after a hundred grand," I admitted.

"You know the FBI will expect that to be handed in as well…"

"And they'll be shit out of luck!" I snapped quickly. "Merquise specifically stated in the note with the money that it was legally obtained from his honest business ventures. It was meant for Duo, and since he's not here, I think Winner should take charge of it. He can donate it to the orphanage if he feels that's what Duo would have wanted. But I'll be damned if the FBI sees a red cent of it."

He nodded, looking out the window, and then turned back to me, with a faint smile. "Well, in the event that they make a stink about it, you could always tell them there was a lot less. I noticed Merquise didn't specify the amount, did he?"

"Exactly," I agreed. "I'll give it to Winner, and if he thinks there's any question of legality, he can report what he considers a fair portion to the FBI, for tax purposes. And frankly, I think if it's going to charity, they can't even _charge _taxes." I shrugged as I drove. "I trust Quatre to do what's right."

"So do I."

We pulled up at the courthouse shortly after noon, and I checked my watch. "Think they'll be recessed for lunch?"

"Could be. Perhaps you can catch Winner and see if he could break away for the afternoon."

"I'll give it a shot. You don't mind waiting here and keeping an eye on things?"

He smiled. "Not a problem. Reminds me of all the stakeouts we've shared. You'd run off to get us coffee and a meal, while I kept the binoculars trained on the suspect's house. I'm very good at waiting and watching."

"You're very good at everything, Chang," I said with a shake of my head. "I got lucky when you were assigned as my partner."

He waved me away. "Go! Cut the mushy crap and go find Winner."

* * *

I was smirking as I headed into the courthouse, which in retrospect wasn't a great idea. The guys at the desk were officers I'd never met, and insisted on searching me from head to toe, saying I looked "suspicious."

I resisted the impulse to tell them if they'd been that thorough before, someone might not have succeeded in smuggling in the knife Une used to attack Duo.

When they finally ran my i.d. and were satisfied I was allowed my sidearm, they cleared me to go inside, warning me that the court was still in session, and I'd have to wait until a recess to go in.

That was fine with me, since I didn't want to see Khushrenada's smirking face any time soon. Thinking about what he'd done to both Merquise and Duo was enough to make me long to smash a fist through it—if not a bullet.

But I calmed my anger by remembering I had the ammunition to take him down legally. And it was going to be sweet revenge.

I ended up cooling my heels on a bench in the hallway for nearly an hour before the doors opened and people began filtering out of the courtroom.

Winner and Noventa were walking side by side, heads close together as they conferred.

"Counselors!"

They stopped and gave me a surprised look, and of course Winner's face lit up. "Heero! You made it. How good to see you here."

"I, uh, need to talk to you," I told him, glancing warily at Noventa. "Privately."

Quatre's eyes narrowed astutely. "I see. Um—can it wait a bit? Attorney Noventa and I need to go over our notes. It won't take long."

"Why don't you come to the office with us?" Noventa suggested. "You can wait right outside."

Ah yes. I remembered the wooden bench, though not particularly fondly. "Sure."

I followed them down the hall, and they ducked into the office without even a "so long." So I settled myself onto the bench and got reacquainted with the floor tiles, as I rested my elbows on my knees and let my hands dangle down between them.

In all fairness, it was probably less than fifteen minutes before Winner came out, telling me to just hang on while he ran back to the court clerk for a copy of part of the transcript.

Just after he dashed off, Noventa came to the door, looking me up and down, and then beckoning me into his office.

I went reluctantly, though there was no reason. It was just an office—just one of the last places I'd seen Duo alive.

And he was just an attorney—the one who happened to be walking beside Duo when he died. Not that I blamed him for that. Not really.

Well, not completely.

It wasn't his fault—what happened. If anything, it was mine—for not being alert enough—fast enough—clairvoyant—.

_Shit._

The District Attorney gestured me to a chair, but I shook my head and stood facing him across the desk.

"Still keeping secrets?" he said in a chiding tone.

"Sir?"

He gave an almost indulgent smile. "It didn't strike me until I saw you at the funeral. You looked like you'd lost your best friend—."

"I—."

"—or your lover," he added before I could fumble for a plausible lie.

The flush that spread up my face must have told all.

"It was then that I recalled the scene in the hallway—with you, and Relena, and Maxwell. At the time, I thought the word 'boyfriend' was a slip of the tongue or a figure of speech. But it wasn't, was it?"

I shook my head, seeing no point in trying to cover it up any longer.

"I should have realized it sooner—the way he looked at you, and depended on you—and the way you protected him. It was obvious, in retrospect." His keen eyes leveled a piercing look at me. "You were in love with him."

"I still am," I admitted.

He sighed, appearing to mull it over, and then a faint smile touched his lips. "I have to admit, there was a lot about him to love."

"Yes, there—was."

"He really impressed me—probably more than you realize." He looked up with a determined gleam in his eyes. "I intend to go in there tomorrow and finish what that young man started."

"So it's true? Closing arguments are tomorrow?"

He nodded. "And I'm going to give the best one of my life. It's going to put Khushrenada away for good."

I managed a faint smile at his tone. "I hope you succeed."

"Well, forensic evidence put him at the scene. And Winner did an admirable job of discrediting the Schbeiker girl, while Barton gave a very convincing account of the events surrounding the argument. Between that and Maxwell's testimony, we should have enough to pull off a win." He shuffled the notes on his desk and gathered them up. "I know it's not much consolation, and it doesn't make up for his death—but it's the only thing I can offer."

"It's—enough," I told him. "I think he'd be satisfied knowing that Khushrenada got his due punishment."

"I hope I can get the job done."

I tucked my hands into my pockets, put on a wise expression, and quoted a fortune cookie. "You should be able to undertake and complete anything." I managed a wistful smile. "Good luck, counselor."

As I turned away, Quatre came jogging back in the door and dropped a page onto the top of Noventa's pile. "There it is," he said with a satisfied smile. "The last nail for the coffin."

Noventa smiled up at him and nodded. "Then I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." Winner turned and hooked a hand around my arm. "Now, Heero. I'm all yours," he said, tugging me out of the office.

"Don't you have to go back into the courtroom?" I asked.

"No—the judge adjourned for the day. The witnesses have all been called and interviewed, and all that remains are closing arguments. Then the jury will be sequestered until they reach a verdict."

"So it really is almost over," I breathed in awe. "That's—good."

"It's great," he said firmly. "I'll be glad to have time for Trowa again." A faint shadow darkened his eyes. "He's needed me this past couple of weeks, and I haven't really been there as much as I should."

"But what you were doing—was important," I reminded him.

"I know that. But nothing's more important than someone you love. You of all people know that."

I nodded, unable to disagree.

"Now, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Actually—." I glanced warily around at the nearly-empty hallway. "If you're headed for your office, I'd like to conduct some business there."

"I wasn't going to—." He paused, fixing a wary look on me. "What's this about, Heero?"

"Not here," I cautioned. "I've got something I need you to safeguard. Chang's waiting in my car with it."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You aren't trying to give back the ashes, are you—? Alexander was adamant that they go to you—."

"No, it's not that!" I said sharply. "Stop trying to second-guess me here, and just tell me you'll follow us over to your office so we can explain everything."

He nodded slowly. "All right. I'll follow you over."

We'd reached the parking area, and Winner spotted my car, with my partner leaning back comfortably in the passenger seat, hands tucked behind his head. He gave me another puzzled look. "See you at my office."

I clapped him on the shoulder and scooted around to the driver's side, slipping behind the wheel.

Chang glanced over nonchalantly. "What's he doing out here? We're not conducting business in a parking lot, are we?"

"Nope. He's done for the day. We're going to his office. I'm going to personally watch him lock up those disks in his biggest, safest vault."

"And the money," Chang reminded me with a yawn.

"And the money."

We drove to Winner's office in record time, as I was so eager to have the original disks secured that I bent the hell out of every traffic law and speed limit on the way.

Thus, Chang and I were waiting in the lobby with the snooty secretary when Winner finally made it up the elevator.

He stepped out into the reception area, looking a bit winded, and waved Chang and me in after him, as he entered his plush office.

"Now what the hell is so important that you insisted on meeting here?" he asked, with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

I handed him the note from Duo first. "Howard gave me that at the funeral," I told him.

He read it, and then looked up with a rather sad smile. "I'm glad he knew it even then," he said warmly. "That he loved you, I mean."

"So am I."

"Touching as this is," Wufei cut in sternly, "can we move on?"

I held up the manila envelope. "I went to the depository, Quatre. I got the contents of the box." I slid one of the copies of Merquise's letter onto his desk. "That was on top."

Again Winner took a moment to read and digest the information, and then he looked up at me with raised eyebrows. "I take it that envelope contains the information?"

"Yes—the original disks and letter." I sat down on the edge of the desk, my voice a bit shaky with excitement as I shared my discovery with Winner. I told him about the encryption and how long it had taken me to discover the password, and what I found when I did. I explained the care I'd taken to keep my fingerprints from marring the ones Zechs had left behind, and how I'd made copies and put them into trusted hands.

"What I want from you, Quatre, is to lock up the originals, until I have a chance to talk to Agent Alexander and show him one set of copies. I'm not going to tell him how many copies I made, or where they are. But I'll tell him about the originals, after I get what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"I want five minutes alone with Khushrenada."

"Yuy! They won't allow—!" Chang began.

"I'm not saying I want to be in the room with him. I know perfectly well they've got him in maximum security—for his own sake as well as that of his guards. But they can give me five minutes in the visiting room—with bullet-proof glass between us."

"Why?" Quatre asked quietly.

"Because I want him to know that the reason his empire is about to be destroyed is that he let that psycho bitch kill Duo. I want him to know that if he'd just left him alone, no one would have ever found out about the disks, and his secrets would have been safe."

"You want to rub his face in it."

"I _need _to."

The attorney appeared to consider that for a long moment. Then he looked up warily. "What if he leaks word to the compromised agents that their names are no longer secret?"

"He'll be too late. I'll give Alexander the list of his rogue agents and time to set the wheels in motion to apprehend them, before we set up the meeting."

"Besides," Wufei spoke up. "The only people Khushrenada will be able to communicate with are his attorneys. Any leaks of information would be traced straight back to them. I don't think Tsubarov would risk being disbarred just to help Khushrenada tip off his friends."

Winner gave a skeptical snort. "Don't be too sure about that. He's already under possible investigation for suborning perjury by enticing that Schbeiker girl to testify. Une may have made the contact and the payoff, but if it can be traced back to Tsubarov or his people, he won't be practicing law much longer."

"How nice," Wufei said with a wolfish grin. He gave me a conspiratorial look. "I see why you want to have his baby. He says the nicest things."

"What?!" yelped Quatre, looking back and forth between us.

I waved his panicked question aside. "Just an inside joke, counselor. Don't worry about it. Just tell me you'll safeguard these disks until I send Alexander to collect them. And if he can't tell you the password, it means something's not kosher."

He nodded in understanding. "Are you sure you're not being just a tad paranoid? I mean, no one knows about the disks yet. Do you really think Alexander would show up here looking for them if you hadn't sent him?"

"He knows you're Duo's attorney. Once I tell him about the disks, he could guess that I'd given the originals to you to safeguard."

"True. And what if he doesn't allow you your five minutes?"

"Then he doesn't really want to bring down Oz. I'm only going to give him the list of rogue agents, to start with. After my talk with Khushrenada, I'll hand over the copies and tell him you have the originals, and what the password is."

He finally gave a firm nod of his head, and held out a hand for the envelope, but I held up one of my own to make him wait.

"I'm also going to give you that 'sum of money' Merquise left for Duo," I told him, holding up the second envelope, in which I'd stored it. "There's a letter explaining that it was legally obtained, from Merquise's legitimate business enterprises. I don't think it's any business of the FBI; but if they come after it, I'd like you to do your best to prevent them from seizing it. I think Duo would want the Maxwell Church Orphanage to have it, don't you?"

He smiled. "I'm sure he would. And I'll be happy to put it into an escrow account until I establish legal claim to it on his behalf."

"You'll notice that Merquise did not specify the amount," Wufei pointed out.

"Yes, I noticed that," Winner agreed. "It gives the FBI very little to go on, doesn't it? And with all the offshore money they'll be able to seize from Oz during their investigation, I expect they'll have little or no interest in an honest bequest of funds."

"I'll bet Trowa loves it when you talk legalese like that," I teased, feeling a rush of invincibility as I face the possibility of throwing Khushrenada's pending defeat in his face.

Quatre blushed and stammered for a moment, and then just blew out a frustrated breath and set about documenting the items I'd given him. He had that money counted and locked up in no time at all, and then put the manila envelope with the disks into a different compartment of his large office safe, and sealed it up.

"There we go, gentlemen," he said while dusting off his hands. "I'm the only one with access to that safe. Should anything happen to me, your friend Alexander will have to wait for my estate to be settled before anyone will be authorized to access it."

I was about to protest that it would also ensure Chang and I couldn't access it, when Winner smirked at both of us. "Trowa could tell you the combination in the meantime though—it matches a certain message code he and Duo used to use."

I gaped in surprise, and Wufei blushed to the roots of his hair, recalling Duo's sexually explicit phone message.

"I—ah—got it," I stammered, taken aback by the lawyer's lewd reference. He always startled me when he did that; he just looked so damned sweet and innocent.

But then, hadn't I known what a deadly shark he could be in the courtroom? I shouldn't have been surprised that he had an earthy side to him.

He smiled in satisfaction, and stood up. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I want to get over to Trowa's and see how he's holding up. And I believe you've got an FBI agent to track down. Will I see you both at closing arguments tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I assured him.


	64. Closing Arguments

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Four: Closing Arguments

Chang and I had no luck finding Alexander that afternoon. He'd commandeered an office at the precinct, but when we called the number there, we were told he'd gone out of town for a few days.

Needless to say we didn't leave a message. But I did get the name of the agent covering the office so I could check my list for it when I got home.

Meanwhile, having Merquise's disks safely locked away in Winner's safe had taken such a load off my mind that I actually let Wufei talk me into dinner out with him and Catherine. We kept the conversation light, for her benefit, talking more about the engagement than anything relating to the trial.

It was kind of bittersweet to watch the play of light in Wufei's eyes as he glanced fondly at Catherine from time to time.

I knew that feeling very well—the one that shone from him like a beacon. He was very much in love, and looking forward to a bright future with his chosen one.

Somehow, though, I couldn't feel jealous or resentful. They deserved happiness; I'd never deny that. And in all honesty, my own life didn't have to be sunshine and roses for me to wish good fortune on my friends.

But it did make my breath catch in my throat when I noticed their hands clasped across the table and Chang's thumb stroking lightly across the back of Catherine's hand.

Fortunately, I'd always been good at compartmentalizing my emotions, and I carefully placed a lid on the roiling guilt and despair caused by losing Duo, and kept firmly focused on destroying Khushrenada and his empire.

Sometimes anger is a great therapy. I could target all my energy on the one who caused it; and once I did, they never stood a chance.

"Chang? I think I'll skip dessert," I told him. "I want to get back to my apartment and print up that data for Agent Alexander, in case he shows up at closing arguments."

He looked up with concern in the dark eyes, rather guiltily slipping his hand from Catherine's. "Don't feel you have to rush off," he insisted. "We're glad you joined us tonight—."

I took his hand and put it back over Catherine's, watching her blush a little, and then smile warmly at Wufei. "You two take your time. Have dessert and enjoy each other's company." I winked at my partner. "Three's a crowd, Chang."

"But—."

"I'll see you tomorrow." I clapped him on the back. "And dinner's on me." Before he could protest, I went in search of our waitress, making sure to pay her enough to cover my friends' dessert and a generous tip.

Someone once taught me the nicer you are to a waitress, the better the service.

After leaving the restaurant, I drove across town and back to my empty apartment. But oddly enough, the first thing I looked for as I walked in was that damned box of ashes. And the minute my eyes settled on it, I felt less alone.

I always thought it was stupid for people to name inanimate objects, like a car or a gun (and yeah, a lot of cops _did _name their sidearms). But I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying "hey Angel" as I walked by.

Fuck—next thing you knew, I'd be calling my car something silly, like "Wing" or "Zero." (Well it _did _do "zero" to sixty in record time—once I got it started, anyway. And I'd sometimes joked that it had "wings," when I needed it to.)

I chuckled to myself and headed for the laptop to print up enough of the data from the disks I planned to give Alexander, to convince him of their worth. I also double-checked my list of corrupt FBI agents and breathed a quick sigh when the one who'd answered his phone wasn't on it.

Then I put on some music, and stretched out on my bed to get a decent night's sleep for the first time in weeks.

* * *

Morning found me up and dressed in clothing suitable for the courtroom well before Chang called to see if I wanted a ride in. I accepted his offer, just to be sociable, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Catherine was coming with us.

"Well, this is quite the crew," I commented, sliding into the passenger seat after Catherine scooted closer to Wufei to give me room.

"Winner and Barton will meet us there," Wufei told me. "We plan to sit as a group—to present a united front to Khushrenada." His dark eyes glimmered with determination. "He will know that to harm one of us is to harm us all."

Wow. And to think Chang didn't even _like _Duo at the start of all this.

I "hn'd" my agreement to his sentiments, and watched the scenery slide by in comfortable silence.

The courthouse was almost as packed as it had been at the start of the trial. Apparently everyone wanted to hear the final statements—the summary of all the testimony that had gone before.

I just wanted to hear what sort of crap Tsubarov was going to try to spew forth. The District Attorney couldn't object during the defense's closing argument. But by the same token, if the defense _made _one (which was optional, though I felt sure they would), he had the right of rebuttal afterwards.

And I really hoped Noventa had polished his statement to perfection. I'd heard he could move juries to tears with his eloquent speeches—and I wanted this to be the best he'd ever made.

We endured the usual screening on the way into the courthouse, though Chang was more vocal than I had been about how this level of security a couple of weeks sooner might have saved a witness' life.

He almost got himself strip-searched for his trouble.

I was standing beside Catherine, smirking at my partner's irritation while he straightened his suit and tie, when I saw Barton and Winner approaching.

"You made it!" the blonde said enthusiastically, reaching to shake Chang's and my hands as if he hadn't just seen us the day before.

"Told you we would," I shrugged, my eyes going past him to Barton.

Trowa looked—haggard. And I wondered if the same hollowness was reflected in my eyes.

"How are you?" I asked simply.

He shrugged one shoulder, in a gesture vaguely reminiscent of Duo when he was at his most insecure. "Okay, I suppose," he conceded.

"Just okay?" I recalled him being the one who'd supported me through the funeral, and felt a bit guilty for not having returned the favor.

He gave a wan smile. "Still a bit unsteady is all."

"I heard you took time off from work."

"Yeah—too many memories there for me right now."

"I dropped off some clubbing clothes with Ms. Noin. I'd have called you, but—."

"Naw, I was pretty busy with testifying and stuff."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. I owe you for that."

"No problem."

Quatre caught Trowa's arm then, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Shall we all go in and take our seats? I got us the front row…right behind Noventa and opposite Khushrenada and his lackeys."

And so the five of us filed into the courtroom and took our places.

I ended up between Barton and Chang, and I elbowed the dancer chidingly as we sat down. "By the way," I whispered with a smirk. "You clean up nice."

It was the truth; in a suit and tie, with his hair combed into a less roguish style, he could've been a corporate executive, or a model. He looked smooth and elegant.

He managed to quirk a genuine smile at me. "Well I _am _a performer, after all."

"A very talented one, as I recall," I dared to tease back.

"Why, thank you," he said with a polite nod. "Not so bad yourself, detective, when you aren't in 'mission mode.'"

We fell silent and dropped our banter the moment the bailiff called the court to order and Judge Lake entered.

I hadn't bothered to glance in Khushrenada's direction until then; but I was rewarded by the sight of him looking a little less polished and smug than he had before.

He was being held in custody when not in court, and I thought maybe prison life didn't agree with him. I could only hope it was about to become his permanent situation.

The intensity of my scrutiny seemed to reach him, and he glanced my way, immediately curling a lip in a contemptuous gesture. His eyes had a mocking glint, and he let them rake across Trowa in a way that made me want to offer the dancer something to wash with.

I imagined that when Barton had taken the stand in Duo's defense, he'd earned no favor in Khushrenada's eyes, especially after belting him in the hallway. But I hoped that Merquise had owned The Jungle outright, and not been partnered with Khushrenada in that business venture—or Trowa might be out of a job very shortly.

_What was I thinking?_ Of course he wouldn't. Khushrenada was about to go down for murder. He wouldn't be making any business moves for a long, long time.

* * *

I turned my attention back to the front of the room, as Judge Lake banged her gavel and called the session to order.

"Mister Noventa, are you prepared to make your closing argument?"

"Yes, Your Honor, I am."

The District Attorney got up and approached the jury, making eye contact with them one by one, before beginning his summary.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury—you heard an eyewitness account of Zechs Merquise's murder—an account backed up by forensic evidence. There was a shoe print in Merquise's blood—a print of a very exclusive make of footwear that Treize Khushrenada was known to wear. It had a unique maker's mark. His attorneys may try to tell you, as he told the police, that he gave those five thousand dollar shoes to charity."

He glanced at Khushrenada, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Even if he would give away something of such value—what are the odds they'd end up leaving a footprint at Zechs Merquise's murder scene?"

Noventa turned back to the jury again, and began to review other pieces of forensic evidence—the DNA on a wine glass, the blood spatter that clearly indicated there were multiple people in the room at the time of the murder, and the bruising on Merquise's wrists and shoulders, proving he'd been forcibly restrained.

I thought it a bit odd that he didn't address the accusations made against Duo—but then, I imagined he'd get to that eventually.

"When all is said and done," he concluded, "this is a simple case. We presented a reliable eye witness, as well as someone to corroborate his testimony, and a great deal of forensic evidence supporting that account. There is no reasonable doubt that Treize Khushrenada killed Zechs Merquise. It is my contention that you have no choice but to find him guilty of that crime."

He gave a polite nod and stepped away from the jury, returning to his seat at the prosecution's table.

Was that it? He hadn't mentioned the attacks against Duo at all—the verbal one by Tsubarov, or the literal one Une had carried out. Somehow, I'd expected more. A lot more.

I glanced around Barton and caught Winner's eye, frowning and shaking my head in confusion.

He put a finger to his lips and gave a quick shake of his head and a wait-and-see look towards the front of the courtroom.

The judge had called Tsubarov to make a closing statement if he wished, and apparently he did.

He approached the jury with a patronizing smile. "Ladies and gentlemen—the prosecution has laid out a very plausible account of Zechs Merquise's murder, complete with an eye witness and forensic evidence. While there is some validity to the science of forensics—there is also a lot of uncertainty and speculation. The footprint in Merquise's blood _could _have been made by a very exclusive type of shoe, which Treize Khushrenada did at one time own. But the police found no such shoes at Mister Khushrenada's home. Nor did they find the .45 caliber weapon which killed Zechs Merquise. There was no security footage to suggest that Treize Khushrenada was ever even at Merquise's penthouse, let alone the night of his death."

"On the other hand, Duo Maxwell had been there many times. As Merquise's lover, he had ready access to the penthouse. Furthermore, such a child of the streets would have little trouble acquiring and then getting rid of, a gun. Witnesses heard him fighting with Zechs Merquise less than a week before the shooting. Whether he actually said he'd kill him or not, he demanded that Merquise leave him alone '—or _else_.' And then, the night of the murder, Merquise was seen leaving the Sanc Palace in Maxwell's company."

He raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. "Seems pretty obvious to me what happened. They went back to the penthouse, had another falling out, and Merquise ended up dead."

I felt Trowa tense beside me, and saw Winner grab his arm in a firm grip. Then I realized that from my other side, Chang had my arm in just as tight a hold, as I was half-rising from my seat.

I settled back down, feeling my jaw clench with ire.

Tsubarov was smiling conspiratorially, as if he and the members of the jury were sharing some kind of private joke.

"Considering his past, someone like Duo Maxwell would realize he needed a spectacular alibi once he'd killed his former lover—and what's more spectacular than accusing one of the most high-profile businessmen in the state? Of course, it's Maxwell's word against that of Mister Khushrenada and three of his employees that he was even _there_!"

"I submit to you that there is just as much evidence that Duo Maxwell killed Zechs Merquise as there is against Treize Khushrenada. He had means, motive, and opportunity. That should place enough doubt in your minds to necessitate an acquittal. Reasonable doubt, folks. That's all it takes."

He strutted away with his chin held high, as if he was assured of his victory.

And I was terrified that he was right.

I could almost _hear _Duo saying "I am _so _fucked."

"Jesus, Winner—," I hissed in an undertone.

He looked intensely at me, shaking his head in warning, and then turning his attention back to the prosecutor, who'd risen and approached the jury again.

Mister Noventa cleared his throat, and gave a sort of resigned nod. "I wonder if Mister Tsubarov watched a different trial than the rest of us," he said with quiet amusement. "Since he seems to have a rather skewed view of the facts."

"He'd like you to suspect Duo Maxwell of Zechs Merquise's murder. And I'm sure that would be very convenient for his client, if you did. But you _saw_ Duo Maxwell take the stand—you heard his heartfelt account of his lover's death." He shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I saw no 'child of the streets.' I only saw a young man who went through Hell these past weeks, dodging assassins so that he could be here to testify. _Dodging assassins._" He shook his head in disbelief. "If Maxwell was the killer, why would anyone have tried to kill him? Why wouldn't Mister Khushrenada have simply laughed off the accusation that _he _committed the crime, and let the police uncover the truth? I can't help but wonder why an _innocent_ man would hire killers to silence the only witness to a high profile crime—and yet the attempts on Maxwell's life suggest that someone with deep pockets wanted him dead."

"They got what they wanted, didn't they?"

He paused to let that sink in, and I was pretty sure every person on that jury was remembering the shocking murder at the very door to the courtroom.

"I won't begin to speculate on the ravings of a clearly disturbed woman," Noventa continued, cleverly sidestepping the land mine of Une's rant, which the judge had told the jury to disregard. "But as a result of her actions, Mister Maxwell is not here to explain that he and his lover had put their argument behind them and resumed their relationship the night of the murder. He's not here to offer further insight into the dynamics of the Merquise/Khushrenada business association. He's not here because Treize Khushrenada's personal assistant felt it was so important to silence him that she attacked him in a courtroom full of witnesses. She sacrificed herself to try to save her boss from the consequences of his actions."

He darted a narrow glare in Khushrenada's direction. "Such loyalty."

"But all that aside, we clearly can't take the word of a woman who was obviously mentally unbalanced. On the other hand, we can certainly take the word of the very sincere and lucid young man who took the stand at the risk of his own life to find justice for his dead lover."

"And we can also believe Mister Maxwell's friend Trowa Barton, who came forward to corroborate that testimony. He explained the lovers' spat that Mister Tsubarov would claim was a motive for murder. He told us how much that brief separation pained Duo Maxwell, and how exhilarated he was when he and Merquise patched things up. He put into perspective the brief display of temper in the hallway of Sanc. Even the woman who'd told Mister Tsubarov about that encounter and claimed there was a death threat made, later admitted to lying about it. So there _was _no motive for Maxwell to murder Zechs Merquise. And there was every reason for him to want his lover alive. As Mister Barton said, Zechs Merquise had shown Duo Maxwell a level of love and attention he'd never known before in his harsh life."

He gave a rather insouciant shrug. "No motive. Why then, should we suspect Duo Maxwell?"

"On the other hand, the conversation that Mister Maxwell overheard at the penthouse, indicated that Treize Khushrenada had a very strong motive to want Zechs Merquise dead. He thought he'd been betrayed. He thought his business associate and partner in crime was going to the police to reveal his secrets. 'A matter of honor and betrayal—,' he said. A man like Treize Khushrenada could not tolerate a traitor in his organization. While we can't address the nature of the relationship between the Oz syndicate and the Romefeller Foundation, surely we can see by looking at him that Mister Khushrenada is used to having his orders obeyed—used to getting his way—in everything."

"I implore you—don't let him have his way in this. Duo Maxwell _died_ to bring you the truth. The evidence we presented supported his testimony. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain. Find Treize Khushrenada guilty of the murder of Zechs Merquise, and let Duo Maxwell rest in peace!"

Wow—he had me on that one. I hastily looked down at my lap to hide the tears that welled up with his heart-wrenching plea.

"Damn, he's good," Trowa breathed almost reverently.

"Amen to that," I managed hoarsely.

Winner shot me a smug look and nodded his agreement, and I heard Wufei mumble something about justice being served. I felt a surge of hope in that moment. If the jury was half as moved by Noventa's words as I was, there was no way they could acquit Khushrenada.

Victory was going to be sweet.

I dared a glance over at Khushrenada, who wore a mask of indifference, though his eyes glittered with ill-concealed anger. Apparently, he'd seen how smoothly Noventa turned Tsubarov's accusations around, and he didn't like it.

"Do you still want your five minutes?" Quatre whispered to me as we filed out of our seats.

"Damn straight, I do," I growled back. Seeing Khushrenada go down for murder wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

I wanted him to watch his empire fall with him. And I wanted to be the one to deliver the message that it would.

Okay, maybe _that_ would be even sweeter than victory.

"How long do you think the jury will deliberate?" I asked Winner.

"Hard to say. In a case like this, at least a week. If it goes longer than that, well, they might end up in a deadlock."

"Not good," Chang muttered. "If there's a mistrial and we have to start over, we'll lose the edge Maxwell gave us."

"Don't even think that!" I said sharply.

"Heero's right," Catherine agreed. "We need to be positive about this. The jury _had _to see that Noventa made good sense. If they have any kind of consciences, they can't acquit a man like Khushrenada."

We were out in the hallway by then, and Noventa caught up to us, reaching for my arm. "A moment, detective?"

I looked up at him and glanced aside at my friends. "They know," I told him simply.

His gaze swept over them and then came back to rest on me. "Okay, then. I just wondered how I did in there?"

"You did great," I assured him. "Got me a little nervous when you didn't bring up their accusations in the first part of your closing—but I see the tactical advantage to the way you did it."

"Always let them take the first low blow," he said with a sly grin. "It makes them look both underhanded and cowardly."

"Oh—he says nice things too," Chang spoke up, reminding me of Winner's comments about Tsubarov. "Nobody seems to like Mister Tsubarov very much."

Noventa eyed him with a smirk. "As I recall, he once tried to make you accuse your partner of police brutality."

Wufei's eyes glittered like black ice. "An injustice I never forgot," he said coldly.

"Old history," Quatre said airily. "Mister Tsubarov will have his own neck to worry about soon—if the private detectives I hired are able to link him to the payoffs made to Miss Schbeiker."

"You think he's stupid enough to have left a paper trail?" chided Noventa.

"One can only hope."

As Noventa chuckled and turned to leave, I caught his sleeve and offered my hand. "Thank you, counselor. Thank you for defending Duo, and for speaking on his behalf—for reminding the jury what he sacrificed—. All of it. You really _did _care about him, didn't you?"

"Like I said, I was very impressed with him."

I shook my head. "Go figure. It took him weeks to get under my skin, and he did it to you in a day and a half."

He shrugged modestly. "I'm a perceptive man, Yuy. Have to be in this line of work." His gaze slipped over to Quatre. "If you ever want to trade specialties, counselor, I could use another sharp mind on my team."

Quatre smiled gently. "I'm a defense attorney at heart," he said, placing a hand over said heart. "But if you run into another tough case, I can be persuaded to provide tactical advice."

"I'll keep that in mind." And then Noventa was gone, striding confidently off towards his office, and I had to face the fact that there were now _two _attorneys I both liked and respected.

"Shit."

"What?" asked Winner.

"Nothing," I muttered sullenly, not wanting to share my newfound insight.

* * *

We all went out to lunch, making it a mini-celebration of both Chang's and Catherine's engagement, and the conclusion of Khushrenada's trial.

It was supposed to be a festive occasion. And if Barton looked a little pinched around the eyes, I didn't dare mention it, as I was afraid I looked much the same.

I think we were both considering the ramifications of the trial's end. Duo had brought us all together; protecting him, and then carrying through on his mission to bring down Khushrenada had been our common cause.

But now that it was coming to an end—we faced the realization that we'd have to return to our lives minus his vibrant presence. And if that wasn't daunting enough, we'd have to face the possibility of losing touch with one another, now that we lacked our unifying force.

I began to understand why Chang was so adamant that I promise to be there for his wedding. He wasn't willing to give up what we'd gain, in friendship and in trust. He wanted to keep everyone he respected and valued in his life.

I think I wanted the same—though I knew that first I'd have to find a way to accept Duo's death and effect some healing. There was no way I could be the person Chang had learned to respect if I kept hanging on to the past and wallowing in self-pity.

"Heero?" Quatre asked quietly, as if sensing my deep thoughts. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine," I answered automatically. "Just thinking about what to do next."

"Next?" Wufei cut in. "You're going to track down Alexander and make a deal."

I looked up at him with a faint smile. "No—I mean after that. Just—I'm trying to come up with a game plan—for the rest of my life, I guess."

His expression softened. "That's good."

"Very good," Quatre agreed. "And you know I'm full of suggestions, if you ever need any."

"I know that, counselor," I sighed. "All lawyers are full of—suggestions."

He chuckled at the obvious hesitation. "So are a lot of detectives," he countered. Then he picked up his glass of wine, and cleared his throat. "How about a toast—to Duo? He brought us all together and taught us the value of friendship."

I hastily reached for the dark beer sitting in front of me, and Trowa lifted his as well, our eyes meeting across the table, mirroring the same pain even as we let Quatre believe the smiles we pasted on were real.

Maybe someday they'd be real—but not just yet.


	65. Moments of Truth

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I mercilessly borrowed inspiration from Inigo Montoya in "The Princess Bride."

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Five: Moments of Truth

The jury had been out for nearly a week before I finally got hold of Agent Alexander. He was in his commandeered office at the precinct, and when he answered with his usual cocky tone, I had a moment of indecision.

"Where the hell have you been?" I asked him curtly.

There was a momentary pause. "Yuy? What the fuck do _you _want?"

Ah—I guessed he was still sore about being punched in the mouth. It was just like a Fed to hold a grudge.

"I'd like to talk to you—alone—in a neutral location. I don't trust the bugs in your office."

"There are no bugs—."

"That's just what Captain Po kept saying to me," I reminded him.

"Why do you need to talk to me? The trial's over. I expect to be recalled to D.C. as soon as the verdict is in."

"Oh? Would that be so you can proceed with your federal case against Khushrenada?"

"There _is _no case," he said bitterly. "Someone got to Trant."

"He's dead?" I asked in surprise. "Jesus Christ, Alexander—do you believe me _now_ about your crooked agents?"

"I believe you," he sighed. "Five of the bodies picked up at that amusement park were off-duty agents. Sims was supposedly out on sick leave." He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "I'm mainly here to clear out the office and get ready to leave."

"Look—I know we've had our differences," I told him frankly. "But, I think I can help you. I think we can—help each other."

"How so?"

"I will not discuss this over a phone line," I said flatly. "I will pick you up across the street from the station, and we'll take a ride."

There was a moment of wary silence.

"I'm not going to shoot you and dump the body," I let the dry humor in my voice speak for itself.

"I'll be ready in half an hour. Is that good for you?"

"That's fine."

I hung up the phone and grabbed the pages I'd printed as proof of what I had. I also grabbed the disks I'd made specifically for Alexander, leaving my other spare copies tucked in with Duo's box of ashes.

And then I ran back into my bedroom and pulled a small case from under my bed, digging out a small electronic scanner my guardian had used to detect surveillance devices.

No, I wasn't completely out of "toys" just yet. I tucked it in my pocket and headed off to my meeting with Alexander.

I found myself pausing on my way out the door, dropping a hand to the velvet bag containing the box. "I'll finish this, Duo," I said quietly. "I'll see it to the end, for you and for Zechs."

Halfway to the car, I was chiding myself for talking to a fucking pile of ashes. How stupid was that? It wasn't as if Duo could hear me. He was long gone.

So why couldn't I let him rest in peace, like Noventa had said? Why was I hanging on so hard?

I needed to find a way to let go—to get some kind of feeling of closure. I just wasn't sure how to accomplish it. How do you lay half of your soul to rest?

As I drove, I let my mind drift back through the highlights of my time with Duo—his flirting, the stupid sunrise he'd wanted to watch, our seaweed fight on the beach near the farm, and the sunset from the cliffs above Euphoria. That was where he'd said he loved me, and promised me forever.

Dammit, I had to blink back tears as I recalled those moments. The last thing I needed was to be bawling my eyes out when I picked up the much-hated Agent Alexander.

I imagined he'd get quite a kick out of it—and that was enough to make me pull myself together fast.

He was leaning on a lamppost as I pulled up, almost as if he was using it for cover, and as he got in the car, I couldn't help commenting. "You'd have to be a lot thinner if you wanted to use a fuckin' lamp pole for cover."

He gave a nervous laugh and seemed to relax as I drove off. "So—what's the big meeting all about, Yuy? If you want to lay blame for Maxwell's death, courthouse security was—."

"Would you shut the fuck up and just listen for a change?" I snapped impatiently. "I told you, I think we can help each other." I shoved the small pile of papers in his direction. "Look at those."

He picked them up and started shuffling through, his eyes widening as he realized what he was seeing. "Where did you get this?"

"Ah. So you _are_ interested?"

"Interested? I'd kill for more of this!" he said sharply.

"Yeah—um—that's not reassuring," I pointed out.

"I mean—you _know _what I mean! This looks like an official inter-office memo from Oz itself!"

"It is. And Zechs Merquise copied, encrypted, and kept it."

"W-why?"

I reached into my shirt pocket and passed him a folded copy of the letter from Merquise to Duo.

He read that in silence, as I drove us further away from headquarters and places familiar to him, wanting to get into truly neutral territory. He looked up when I finally pulled the car over in a quiet residential area, near a playground and preschool, and turned off the engine.

"Where the hell are we?"

I shrugged. "Just a neighborhood," I told him. "No place in particular—but I wanted to be far away from bugs, listening devices—you get the idea." I pulled a small, hand-held scanner from my pocket and flipped it on, running it over his clothing in a quick search pattern.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Family heirloom," I replied, straight-faced.

"Who's your family? The CIA?"

"It belonged to my step-father; you'd have to ask him."

He frowned thoughtfully. "I'd like to."

"He's dead." I finished my examination and closed up the device, tucking it away. "You're clean."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "I showered this morning."

"I meant clean of bugs and listening devices."

"I know."

"I don't much like your sense of humor," I told him frankly. "And I don't like _you_."

"Then why are you showing me this?" he asked, holding up the papers.

"Because your name isn't on them."

He looked again quickly, spotting the page of agent names, his face paling as he read it in greater detail. "I know some of these people," he said in a hushed voice. "Is this _all _the FBI agents on Khushrenada's payroll?"

"Half," I told him. "I only brought enough to show you what I have."

"Half," he echoed in a whisper. "One of these names—he was part of Trant's protective detail." He looked up at me with a slightly wild look in his eyes. "I need the rest, Yuy. And I need it now!"

"You can have it," I replied promptly. "There are just one or two small conditions."

His eyes narrowed. "The FBI doesn't make payoffs, Yuy—."

"I don't want your fucking money!" I snarled back, reaching towards the ignition.

His hand quickly intercepted mine. "I'm sorry! Just—don't. Don't let me blow the deal with my big mouth, okay? I need the names of all the crooked agents and I need them fast. Do you know how many people are at risk from them?"

"People like Trant?"

"Yes, like Trant. I can't afford to lose any more witnesses like that. It defeats the whole purpose of the relocation program."

"I imagine it does," I agreed.

"So—name your conditions, Yuy. And if it's within my power to meet them, I will."

"I want your word you'll use the information to take Oz apart, piece by piece."

"Are you kidding? What _else _would I do with it? That's all I've ever wanted since the beginning! Did you think nailing Khushrenada for a little thing like murder was my only goal?"

"No—that was mine. And now—now I want you to finish off his empire."

"Consider it done." He studied my face. "And the other condition?"

"I want five minutes alone with Khushrenada."

"There's no way—!"

"Sure there is. He's in federal lockup—maximum security for the duration of the trial—ever since the attack on Duo. You can get me into the visiting room so I can talk to him."

"Just talk?"

"There's bullet-proof glass, so I'm pretty sure talking is _all _I can do," I pointed out.

"And what will you say? That we've got him by the balls? Yuy, that's stupid. If he knows what we've got on him, he'll have time to prepare—."

I shook my head patiently. "He can't prepare against this," I pointed out. "No matter how much time he has to stew about it, he won't be able to stop it. There's too much information on the disks that Merquise left behind."

"He could alert the agents—."

"—which is why I'll give you the complete list _before _you get me in to see him. I'll trust you with that much, knowing you want the rest of it in order to go after Oz itself."

He shook his head dubiously. "I'm not sure I've got enough pull to get you in."

"If you show the list of rogue agents to your internal affairs people, they'll write you a free pass, and you know it!"

He considered that for a moment, and then shrugged. "Probably."

"So—here's the deal. I'll give you the complete list, as a show of good faith. You'll do whatever it is you have to do to arrange my five-minute interview with Khushrenada. When I go to talk with him, I'll bring along a set of the disks—copies. And I'll hand them over as soon as my time is up—along with the location of the originals and the code to access the data on them."

"That—sounds fair," he conceded. "Y'mind telling me how you broke the encryption? That'd take some serious hacking skills."

I gave him a wry smile. "Call it the byproduct of a misspent youth." _And a love affair with an angel._

He eyed me warily. "However you did it, thanks. I'm glad it at least made you realize I'm not one of the bad guys."

"Not that I'm entirely convinced—just because you haven't been recruited by Oz yet—," I shrugged.

"Some day I'll tell you why," he said enigmatically. "But I've got my own reasons for wanting the syndicate brought down."

"I just want Khushrenada to see it coming," I said coldly. "I want him to have time to feel the burn before his empire crumbles around his ears."

"You've got a real personal hatred for him," noted Alexander. "Want to share?"

"You first."

"Never mind."

I started up the car, and headed up the street, back towards the station.

"Just so you know," Agent Alexander continued. "If by some chance they acquit Khushrenada on the murder charge, I'll have him back in cuffs before they adjourn the court. He won't be back out on the street."

"That's nice," I said conversationally. "But I'm just as concerned with Oz's downfall. I want you to get to work on that, for Zechs and for Duo."

"Oh, I _will_," he said grimly. Then he smiled, looking out the window. "Amazing, isn't it? To think, Merquise was just trying to leave Oz—to run off with his pretty little stripper. It was never his intention to use the disks unless he had to, was it?"

"Nope. If his boss had just trusted him—and let him go when the time came, everything would have been fine. Merquise would have left Oz, and gone to live in quiet obscurity somewhere with Duo. Case closed."

"Yeah—that'll teach Khushrenada not to fuck with love, won't it?"

I spared him a quick glance. "You have no idea how true that is."

Khushrenada had fucked with love not once, but twice. If Duo hadn't fallen in love with me, he'd never have written the note for Howard to pass along. And if he hadn't been murdered, the note would never have been delivered. I didn't know if Duo would have forgotten all about the safety deposit box, had he lived. But sure as shit, his death cost Khushrenada big-time.

Not as much as it cost me—but then, I was trying to even the score as much as possible, in the only way I knew how.

I dropped Alexander back at the precinct, handing him the second page of the agent list, which I'd had in my hip pocket all along. "There's my part of the bargain. When you call me with the time and date for my meeting with Khushrenada, I'll bring along everything I promised."

He was already scanning the list in his hand, his face blanching at what he saw. "You've got a fucking deal!" He said sharply. "Now I've gotta go make some calls and start some serious damage control." He practically ran back into the station, already whipping out his cell phone and starting to dial.

I didn't care. Whatever leaks they had in the FBI, I trusted that Alexander would handle them. I just wanted my moment with Khushrenada, and the satisfaction of hearing a guilty verdict in court.

* * *

I dialed up my partner on the way back to my apartment, and filled him in on my meeting with Alexander, including the news that Trant was dead. Needless to say, he wasn't happy that the last eyewitness to Merquise's murder aside from Khushrenada's lunatic assistant had been killed.

In fact, he went on at some length about the incompetence and corruption prevalent in the FBI, and how right Duo had been to fear and mistrust them all.

And then he noted that Catherine was calling on his other line and asked if I minded talking later, and I gratefully said not at all, and was spared the continuation of his rant.

I found myself smiling at the changes in my partner—all of them good. And when I got back home, I decided it was time to start tidying the place up a bit. Maybe once I reclaimed my couch from the dust bunnies, I could actually invite Chang to bring his fiancée over for a real visit.

And this time I'd do the cooking.

I spent much of my weekend on the cleanup work, though I took time off to go to the gym with Wufei for some sparring on Saturday, and for a jog through the park on Sunday.

The prospect of meeting with Khushrenada had me on edge and feeling like I needed to be in top form. But as the jury entered its second week of deliberations, I began to get nervous about the possibility of a mistrial.

If that happened, those disks would provide the only way to reach Khushrenada—by ripping his organization apart.

There was so much riding on the verdict.

Captain Po called me on Tuesday, asking if I'd talked to the department shrink yet. My negative response seemed to bother her, until I assured her that Chang had been a good partner and friend, and helped me get my head on straight.

I told her I was not suicidal (any more), and that I fully intended to return to my job—eventually.

"But—I wonder—," I said on a sudden whim. "How much vacation time have I accrued?"

"I put you on sick leave for this, Yuy," she reminded me.

"I know. I was just thinking of taking an actual vacation," I told her, which was true, though I hadn't considered exactly where to go.

"A change of scenery?" she asked, her tone oddly sympathetic.

Oh, right—she'd asked me the nature of my relationship with Duo, hadn't she? And my curt answer had probably given her a big, fat clue.

"I think that's a good idea," she continued when I didn't reply right away. "I can understand your needing a little time and space—to put things into perspective."

She said something else—about new surroundings giving a person a fresh outlook on life after a traumatic experience—but I wasn't really paying close attention. If I wanted philosophy lessons, I had a partner who was brimming with sage advice.

But I tuned back in when the phrase "department policy" crossed her lips. Without coming right out and saying it, she let me know that my sexual orientation had no bearing on my continued employment, but I suspected she knew I'd keep the same low profile I always had. Why not? Without Duo, there was no point in advertising my orientation. I didn't want anyone else—just him.

She wasn't such a bad boss, really. Aside from our confrontation in her office, when I was still admittedly in shock over hearing that Duo was dead, we'd always gotten along pretty well. At least, when I wasn't in trouble with the Chief.

At any rate, I found myself with a full month of vacation time at my disposal, once my sick leave ran out. It amounted to at least six weeks in all, though she let me know if I came back sooner, and was willing to meet once with the psychologist, I could return to work at any time.

I thanked her for being so supportive, and told her I'd keep it in mind, then gratefully hung up and delved into my kitchen cupboards to clean and re-line them—anything to stay occupied and not dwell on the jury deliberations or my pending meeting with Khushrenada.

I even accepted a lunch invitation from Winner—but in all honesty, that was mostly so I could pick his brains about why the jury was taking so long to reach a verdict. He insisted it wasn't unusual in a case like this, and soothed a great many of my nagging fears.

He also brought Trowa along, and I got my first sight of the dancer since closing arguments. He still looked a bit somber, though he brightened when I asked about the circus and said he thought he might go on the road with them for the latter part of the month—for a change of scenery.

I laughed at the thought that great minds think alike—wondering where to spend my upcoming vacation time. But I didn't share with my two friends, as nothing was certain—nothing except that I'd wait as long as it took to get my time with Khushrenada.

* * *

Two days later, when I'd finished organizing my apartment, and moved on to cleaning out the refrigerator, Alexander called at the crack of dawn to tell me I could meet with Khushrenada at noon.

The FBI agent had moved his office from the police station, to the facility where the crime lord was being housed, citing the need to be nearby when the time came to transfer him to a federal prison.

Wasn't _he _counting his chickens a bit before they were hatched?

But I didn't begrudge his eagerness. I felt it too.

I called Wufei at slightly _past_ the crack of dawn, to share the joy. "Hey, Chang—guess who I'm going to visit."

I heard his gasp on the other end of the line. "He got you in?"

"Yep. That was the deal, if he wanted the disks. So, yeah. He got me in."

"I'd—like to be there," my partner said with a hint of worry in his voice. "Not that I can go in with you or anything. But, I can at least meet you for lunch afterwards."

"You're fixated on meals, Chang."

"You're not," he countered. "I have a sneaking suspicion you haven't been keeping up on them."

"I eat."

"Daily?"

"Yes," I growled.

"Three times?"

"Uh—at least two," I admitted, knowing if I blithely said "yes," he'd have known it for the pure bullshit it was.

"I'll meet you at the federal building. What time?"

"The meeting's at noon."

"So—I'll be waiting outside for you at about quarter after." There was a slight pause. "Hey, Yuy? I don't suppose they'll let you bring a camera—?"

I chuckled helplessly. "You'd like to see his face, hm?"

"I really would," he said fervently. "But—just—savor the moment, for me too?"

"Oh, I will. I will."

I left the apartment early, impatient to have my moment with Khushrenada. Actually, all five of them.

And when I tapped on Alexander's office door fifteen minutes ahead of time, he looked up without surprise. "Yuy."

"I know. I'm early. But I've waited a long time for this," I said frankly.

He nodded, closing a folder and slipping it into his top drawer, and then standing up and stretching. "You bring the disks?"

"Yes—but they go with me to the meeting. You'll get them after."

"And the location of the originals, right?"

"Right."

"Well then, we may as well head down to 'maximum security.' We have to go through screening to get in."

"Should I leave my gun here?"

"Naw—they'll let you carry it. You're law enforcement. And as you pointed out, Khushrenada will be behind bullet-proof glass. You'll talk via telephones."

"I know how it works."

We headed down the hallway, and were allowed through the outer layer of security—continuing down a corridor towards maximum.

"Sure this is what you want?" Alexander asked as we walked. "Just a moment of payback?" He gave a slight shrug. "You might've bartered this into a Bureau job." He paused for a wry snort. "God knows, we've got plenty of openings, now."

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Just a thought."

"A bad one. All I want is to be the one to show Khushrenada the axe just before it falls. You can have the fun of the kill."

"Gee, thanks."

We passed through the final security screening with no trouble. I think Alexander had briefed them ahead of time, and cleared most of the red tape.

Then I was shown into the visiting room, and at the stroke of twelve, they brought Khushrenada to the opposite side of the bullet-proof glass, and he sat in the chair, his arrogant smirk still firmly in place.

I was looking forward to wiping it off.

He picked up the phone on his side, and gave a polite nod. "Good day to you, detective."

"Yes, it is," I responded calmly, with a smirk of my own.

"I hear the jury's nearly ready to admit to being deadlocked," he commented, looking smug as hell.

"Oh, I think they'll work it out," I countered, hoping I was right.

"It doesn't matter," came the nonchalant riposte. "My lawyers are already working on an appeal."

"On what grounds?"

"The—disturbance at the courthouse tainted the jury."

"You mean the _murder_?"

"Yes, that."

I shook my head. "If you don't beat all. Do you honestly think they'll grant you an appeal because your psychotic assistant murdered the eyewitness in front of a courtroom full of people?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

I narrowed my eyes viciously. "I thought you wanted him alive."

"I did." He shrugged casually. "But sometimes life takes an unexpected turn, and you have to adapt to the changing of fortunes."

"Indeed." I fixed him with a piercing gaze. "Tell me why you wanted him alive."

The man chuckled low in his throat, and shook his head. "Aside from the obvious—?"

"Meaning?"

"When I first caught sight of Duo, he was on stage at The Jungle. I was very impressed with his—sensuality and grace. I could see exactly what drew Zechs to him. He was lovely and crude and dangerous. Zechs always did love a challenge."

"That's all well and good," I cut in impatiently. "But it still doesn't answer my question. Why, after so many attempts to silence Duo, did you give your rogue agents instructions to take him alive? What could possibly be worth taking the chance that he'd get to testify against you?"

"You have no idea," crooned the crime lord. He ran a hand back through his hair, rather like a cat grooming itself. "There is a larger picture, detective. One I'm sure that someone with your limited vision cannot possibly imagine."

"Enlighten me."

He shook his head. "I wish I could." He eyed me dispassionately. "Why are you here, detective? Do you expect me to tell you something you can try to use against me? You're wasting your time."

"What did Duo have that you wanted?"

"A tight ass," hissed the crime lord, a vindictive sneer on his lips.

But it was obvious that he only said it to get a rise out of me, and I disappointed him by shaking my head in a patronizing gesture. "No, Khushrenada. You can find that anywhere. You have men and women eager to fall at your feet—an entire empire of fawning servants. You didn't need Duo for that. You needed to know what Merquise gave him that could harm your precious syndicate."

A flicker of surprise in his narrowed eyes was my reward, but he kept his face impassive. "Merquise gave him nothing."

"You're wrong there. Merquise gave him love, adoration, friendship and affection. He also gave him a means to protect himself in the event something—unfortunate—happened to Merquise."

Oh, he knew exactly where this was going now, and his eyes widened fractionally. "What do you mean?"

"Missing some classified data, are you?" I asked, casually inspecting my fingernails.

He gave an unconvincing snort of skepticism. "Are you on a fishing expedition, detective? Because I really have better things to do with my time than trade barbs with you—."

I held up the disks, fanned out like a hand of cards. "What do you think might be on these, Khushrenada?"

His face drained of color, though he tried once more to maintain his bluster. "If there were anything of note on those disks, it would be encrypted."

"Not any more," I smirked, holding up the single page of data I'd printed out just for demonstration purposes.

This time his reaction was genuine—horror and—fear.

"Do you know what you're holding—?" he said in a livid whisper. "That information—. Zechs should never have been able—." His hand was shaking when he drew it across his damp forehead. "They'll kill me."

Oh, I hoped so. I truly did.

He cast about for an escape, and then slid his chair just a bit closer to the glass, and fixed me with an almost pleading gaze. "Name your price."

"My—price?"

"For the disks—the originals and any copies—all of them. Name your price!" His eyes gleamed with renewed assurance. "I have a fortune, detective. I can give you anything. Money, homes, cars, women, men—_anything_. You have only to name your price."

"Anything I want?"

"Anything!"

I looked him squarely in the eye. "I want Duo back," I said simply.

He gaped at me, losing what little composure he'd mustered.

"I want Duo back alive and well—smiling and laughing—_living_." I shook my head fractionally. "But you can't give me that, can you?" I glared at him with hatred I could feel all the way to my core. "And it didn't have to be this way. If you'd let him alone—let him live—I'd never have gotten the note that led me to these. By killing him, you sealed your _own_ fate. Consider this Duo's repayment for what you did to Merquise, and what you did to him!"

I pushed my chair back and stood up, the handful of disks clutched in a white-knuckled grip. "We're done here."

"No!" He stood sharply, placing both hands against the glass, dropping the phone to the floor. "You can't mean that!" he screamed, banging a fist on the glass. "Name a _real _price! Anything!"

The guards were converging on him from the other side, and I just smiled and shook my head, raising the disks in a farewell salute before walking out of the visiting booth without a backward glance.

Agent Alexander was waiting for me, a slightly disbelieving smile on his face. "He just offered you anything, Yuy. Anything. Do you know how much that man owns?"

"All I know is he doesn't own the one thing I want," I replied, not surprised that he'd listened in on my "private" conversation.

I fixed a wary look on the FBI agent. "In case you're thinking of taking him up on the offer I turned down—."

"I know—you've got other copies. You'd be a fool not to," he admitted. "But don't worry. My boss' name was on that black list—and the fucker's been a thorn in my side for years. I want nothing better than to root out every corrupt and greedy agent in the organization."

I nodded. "Glad we're on the same page, for once."

"Why don't you come back to my office? I'll buy you a cup of coffee—."

"No thanks." I handed him the disks. "As I told Chang, while the enemy of my enemy is my friend, it doesn't mean I want to get particularly chummy with him, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, yeah," he admitted.

We were headed more or less the same way, and he kept stride with me as I walked. "What you said about Maxwell back there—that was a helluva mind game you played with him—demanding the only thing you knew he couldn't produce."

I darted him a sidelong glare. "It was no mind game, Alexander. And that's where you and I differ. You're willing to toy with people's lives in order to carry out your convoluted schemes. I'm not."

"Don't you think bringing down an organization like Oz is worth a few sacrifices?"

I shrugged. "Maybe if you were the one making the sacrifice, you'd see it a little differently. Good day, Agent Alexander."

"Listen, Yuy—about Maxwell—."

I held up a hand. "Don't say anything."

"I just—feel bad about the way it went down—."

"Do you want to get hit again?" I asked sharply, feeling my temper start to build.

He started to say more, but just then his office assistant came dashing down the hall, waving a cell phone. "Alexander! We've got a problem."

He closed his eyes momentarily. "Fuck—if there's been another—." Grabbing the phone from the other man, he put it to his ear. "Alexander here." He listened for a moment, but instead of looking upset—he looked pissed. "When? How did—? Damnit, I told you—!"

I wondered what else had gone wrong in his organization, and then reminded myself his problems were his own—not mine.

He glanced over at me, and I gave him a smirk and a fake salute. "Good luck with all that."

Then I turned off as we got to the end of the hallway, and headed for the elevators, putting him from my mind and feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. For me, it was truly over. I'd delivered Merquise's information into the right hands. I'd ensured that even if Alexander failed to act on it, there were other copies to be distributed, and other people who knew.

All that remained was to wait for the verdict to be decided. And then—what?

* * *

I hadn't thought that far ahead before; but once the case was truly closed, I had to figure out what to do.

I'd planned to go wherever Duo went—to drop everything just to be with him. And having once relinquished my carefully planned and ordered life, I found it hard to consider going back.

"Penny for your thoughts," Wufei said, falling into step with me as I left the building and headed down the sidewalk.

I glanced up with a faint smile. "Just trying to decide what to do with the rest of my life."

He gave a low chuckle. "Ah—that's more like a ten-cent question then."

"I'm taking some time off," I told him, slowing my pace as I saw a hotdog vendor near the entrance to a park. "Buy you lunch?"

He followed my gaze to the man with the pushcart. "That is not food, Yuy. Lunch implies eating _food_."

I just laughed at him. "You wanted to make sure I ate. Well, today I feel like eating _that_."

"I thought once we got back to civilization, we wouldn't have to go slumming again."

"You thought wrong." I elbowed him chidingly. "Humor me, Chang. Share some junk food with me while I figure out my future."

He sighed, and relented, and we walked over and procured our hotdogs. I liberally covered mine with chili, onions and cheese, just to see the faint grimace of disgust on my partner's face.

God, he was easy.

We headed down the flagstone path, with sodas and hotdogs in hand.

"So—you'll take some time off. What will you do?"

_What, indeed?_

"Road trip," I said around a mouthful of pungent food.

"You're channeling Duo again," he pointed out, nibbling delicately at his own meal.

"I sure as hell hope so," I grinned back. "I think I'll head up the coast—do a little reminiscing—some soul-searching."

"Is that—wise?"

"As wise as you proposing to Catherine a month after you met her," I shot back.

"Oh, touché!" he smirked. He raised his Styrofoam cup in salute. "So long as I can count on you to be back in town for the wedding, feel free to go do all the searching you like."

"You haven't set a date," I reminded him.

"True," he conceded. "I guess that means you'll have to keep in touch—call me on regular occasions."

"I guess it does," I agreed.

We finished our meal, such as it was, in a matter of minutes, ending up on a little foot bridge over a brook that ended in a pond and fountain. And there we paused to lean on the railing and watch the goldfish cluster below us, while we finished our sodas.

"I'm a bit concerned," Wufei spoke up, his pensive gaze on the circling fish. "It's going on two weeks for jury deliberations."

"You're not alone in that concern," I assured him. "I had lunch with Quatre and Trowa the other day. Winner insists it's too early to get worked up. He's seen it take longer, with a positive outcome."

"I just—." My partner scowled, clutching his cup in a tightening grip. "You know the rumor mill at the station. There's always some idiot jabbering away by the water cooler; speculating that someone in the jury's been bought—that there might be a couple of 'hold-outs' trying to force a mistrial. The usual shit." He shrugged a shoulder in a gesture that didn't hide his unease. "Just worried that someone paid one of them off—like that Schbeiker woman."

"Yes, but Winner said the judge has already spoken to the jurors, assuring them that their financial situations could come under scrutiny if there's evidence of jury tampering. She even threatened to bring in some of the 'alternates' if anyone's found to have been bribed."

"She really wants a verdict badly, hm?" he said with a dawning smile.

"Not nearly as bad as we do." I clapped him reassuringly on the back. "Chang, I just rubbed Treize Khushrenada's face in the fact that we have him by the balls. Don't rain on my parade!"

He chuckled with honest humor, and gave a quick nod. "Consider it done. No more rain." Then he glanced up at the sunny sky. "As lovely as today is, I suppose I've taken as long a lunch break as I can get away with."

We headed back down the path, Wufei returning to work, while I decided to pick up some groceries and see about getting my car tuned up for my trip.

As it happened, my mechanic was having a slow afternoon and offered to take me right in, so I left the car in his capable hands and ran my errands on foot.

Okay, actually, I took the bus, since it was too far to carry my heaping grocery bags by the time I finished buying protein bars and some dried trail mix for the trip. I also stocked up on batteries for my flashlight, and some bottled water. None of that shit was lightweight, so I didn't feel at all wimpy for using mass transportation instead of shoe leather.

Of course, by five p.m. when I got back to the garage, Mike had finished working on my car, having completed an oil change, air filter replacement, radiator flush, new wiper blades, spark plugs and wires, and tire rotation.

In a fit of generosity, I also had him install a brand new battery, recalling the old one's reluctance to work after the car sat idle for a couple of months.

I did already mention I'd been a boy scout, didn't I?

Then I packed up my car with my travel provisions, and headed for a camping supply store to snag a couple of backpacks and maybe a new pair of hiking boots.

I suppose I could have gone back to my apartment then, but I thought I'd treat myself to dinner at a small, familiar diner that served better meals than you'd have thought by looking at the exterior of the building.

And was it my fault the theatre across the street was showing the sequel to the action flick Trowa had brought to the lake house? I couldn't resist.

In retrospect, I wished I hadn't taken the extra two and a half hours.

I left most of my purchases in my car, locked securely in the parking garage, and headed up the elevator, stepping off into the hallway with a single bag of groceries still in my arms.

But long before I got to my door, I could see that there was something amiss—a torn strip of wood around the jamb—clear signs that the lock had been jimmied.

So I drew my gun, carefully looking up and down the hallway to make sure none of my neighbors were out this late to get in the line of fire, and I eased up to my apartment, carefully nudging the door open with a foot, before slipping inside to see if my intruder was still there.


	66. Passing Judgment

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: Sorry! I truly didn't intend to be misleading last chapter. Duo _will _be back—just not quite—yet.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Six: Passing Judgment

The foyer was dark, and I pressed myself against the wall, edging carefully into the living room, and flipping on the light switch at the same time as I said "Police!"

But I found myself talking to an empty room—an empty and totally destroyed room. It was incredible the amount of damage that had been inflicted on my sparsely-furnished apartment.

Couch cushions were strewn about, slashed and shredded, their contents scattered throughout the room. My stereo was in pieces on the floor, disks open and smashed, and speakers torn apart.

It was as if someone literally dismantled every item in the room, looking for—.

I spun in panic, my gaze seeking the velvet bag with the ashes, only to see it lying amid the ruins of the table it had been on.

"Fuck!"

I hastily did a search of the rest of my rooms, making sure there was no one in hiding—my paranoia back in full force. But aside from my tidy kitchen looking like a bomb had gone off—.

And with that thought, I was grabbing my cell phone and scooping up the bag in the foyer, then dashing back out into the hall.

It took several rings, but finally a sleepy voice said "Chang," in an irritable tone.

"Wufei—someone broke into my apartment tonight—while I was out. Fuckin' trashed the place!"

"Are you all right? Where are you?" he asked, sounding like he was waking rapidly.

"I got out. I'm in the hall near the elevators. Not to sound totally paranoid or anything—but after what happened to Barton's car—."

"You think this was Khushrenada's people? How would he get a message to them so fast? Fuck! Never mind. We underestimated his power again—I'm on my way—."

"Careful!" I cautioned sternly. "Too many people have seen us together. Check your car. And don't just walk blindly out the door. Jesus, I'm sorry, 'Fei. I never dreamed his reach still extended so far—."

"I'll be careful. And you—just—stay put. Watch your back until I arrive."

"Don't call the station," I warned. "We've still got leaks there, and I don't want them to know you're on your way here."

"Goddamn!" he spat. "I thought we put this behind us."

"It won't be over now until Oz is totally defeated. I just—I didn't think. I had to fuckin' gloat, and now—."

"I'm on my way."

I closed the cell phone and stood a shadowy alcove of the hall, with a velvet bag clutched in my arms, heart pounding wildly.

It took me several minutes to calm down enough to stick a hand in the sack and feel the box of ashes and the cds still safely tucked under it. I don't know if I was more relieved at finding the disks, or finding the box unbroken. If Duo's ashes had been spilled across that hallway, I think that final desecration would have just driven me over the edge.

As it was, I wavered between blind rage that Khushrenada would _dare_ send his people after me, and concern that they might target Chang as well.

But then, I'd been the one to spit in Khushrenada's face; I'd been the one to flaunt my power over him. Why had I thought it would end there? I knew how ruthless he was—how powerful. Why did I think he wouldn't try to get to me?

Obviously, he was trying to demonstrate to me that his reach had not diminished, even from behind bars.

As I pondered that, I found myself wondering why there hadn't been someone waiting inside, to beat the whereabouts of the disks out of me. It would have been a smarter move than trashing my apartment and leaving.

Unless of course, they _had _waited, but gave up when I didn't show. Heck, for all they knew, I could be in D.C. signing on with Alexander and his crew to get a front row seat for the dismantling of Oz.

The quiet "ding" as the elevator reached my floor had me diving for cover and turning my gun on the opening doors.

And I was much relieved when my partner stepped out with his own weapon at the ready, breathing a visible sigh and lowering it when he saw me. "Are you all right?"

I nodded, catching my breath and finally holstering my gun. I hefted the box of ashes. "They didn't find them," I told him simply.

"I don't give a shit about that," he snapped in reply. "I give a shit about _you_."

"Yeah, well—they didn't get me _or _the disks."

"Good." He eyed the open doorway of my apartment. "I imagine if there was any kind of explosive device in there, it would have been triggered upon your arrival."

"Good point."

"Not that I'm not just as paranoid as you—but—shall we go in?"

We edged over to the door and cautiously made our way back in among the shattered remnants of furniture.

"Shit," Chang muttered. "They really took the place apart."

"I think they were mad that they missed me," I quipped mirthlessly.

"Where were you?"

"After lunch, I took the car for service, grocery shopped, and treated myself to dinner and a movie."

"And look where it got you," he joked weakly, tiptoeing among my broken belongings. "We should get the lab boys down here to sift through this and look for prints—."

"I suppose so," I shrugged, picking up the Reapers jacket, which was lying among the blankets and pillows that had been yanked off my bed. "God—I'm glad they didn't rip this apart." I wrapped it around the velvet box, tucking the whole bundle under my arm.

"Is there—anything salvageable?"

I drew a deep breath and sighed. "Yes. Although the couch is a total loss, as is most of the wooden furniture, and—." I had to pause to swallow a lump in my throat. "—my laptop, all they did to my clothes was fling them around. Stuff is just tossed and dumped—not all broken."

"So—how about gathering some clothes and coming to my place until forensics can go through this?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to impose—."

"Jesus, Yuy! Stop that! It's no trouble—and you're not safe alone. Not until Alexander gets the wheels in motion and Khushrenada knows it's truly too late. We need to communicate that to him."

"I thought I did," I snapped in frustration. "I made it plain that I was bringing him down."

"He must think you plan to do it yourself—and that if he moves fast enough, he can still prevent it."

He had a point. Maybe once Khushrenada realized I'd already passed the disks along, he'd back off. Or maybe, he'd send someone for a bit of payback.

Chang was already pulling my suitcase from the closet, and picking up slacks and shirts from the floor to begin folding them. He was careful not to touch any solid surfaces or objects that might hold fingerprints. But he gradually made a dent in the chaos.

I put the Reapers jacket and the velvet bag on the bed, and set about helping, relieved to find most of my pictures of Duo simply scattered from the shoebox they'd been kept in. I was able to gather them up, dust them off, and replace them in a box that had become yet another treasured possession.

* * *

It took the better part of the night for us to pack the belongings I valued enough to remove from the crime scene, and the sun was rising by the time we had my suitcases, backpacks and a few boxes piled in the foyer.

I'd have made coffee, but even my carafe was in a shattered heap in the sink. Assholes. What kind of bastard smashes a man's coffee maker?

"Yuy—I should go home and get ready for work," Chang announced, looking at his watch and rubbing his eyes. "I can file a report on this and get the ball rolling on an investigation."

"Sounds good. I can come down later, after I get hold of the super and have him rig up a temporary lock for the door," I said while muffling a yawn.

He frowned in concern. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."

"The sun's up, Chang. I can call the building superintendent any time now. I won't be alone long." I gestured to the pile of belongings. "Besides, getting these down to my car will keep me occupied for awhile."

He left reluctantly, after rehashing a list of precautions worthy of a nagging mother.

I propped the door shut behind him, setting a couple of suitcases against it to slow down any would-be intruder, and stumbled out to the kitchen to see if I might at least have a few sodas left to salvage from the refrigerator.

I sighed as I popped one open, studying my once-pristine kitchen with weary resignation. It could take weeks to restore it to livable condition.

Of course, I had weeks, didn't I? My vacation was still pending—and there was even less to keep me here than before. If I moved in with Chang just long enough for the verdict to be announced, I could leave immediately afterwards on my journey.

I didn't think Wufei would mind overseeing the reconstruction for me. In fact, I knew he'd be flattered that I trusted him with such a personal favor. I wasn't sure I deserved such a partner, but I planned to make sure he knew how much I appreciated him.

The sudden ringing of my cell phone nearly made me jump out of my skin—all but dropping my soda on the floor. And after a moment of fumbling, I managed to dig it out of my pocket and flip it open.

"Yuy."

"Heero? It's Quatre—I just talked to Wufei and he told me what happened. Are you okay?"

"Jeeze, I'm fine. And there was no need for him to call you—."

"He didn't. I called him." There was a momentary pause. "Heero—the jury's in. Court's in session at ten o'clock this morning."

"Holy shit!" I blurted. "Is—is that good? Do you think—?"

He gave a wry laugh. "I have no idea. But I need to head in to meet Noventa early. I was going to drop Trowa off at Catherine's and have him get a ride with her and Wufei. But after hearing what happened to your apartment, I'd rather drop him off with you. Safety in numbers, you know."

"I'm fine, counselor. I don't need—."

"It's already settled," he said firmly. "Wufei's going to arrange the morning off and pick Catherine up and meet the rest of us at the courthouse. He told me where to drop Trowa, so I'm just calling to bring you up to speed and let you know to expect company."

I sighed, realizing they'd neatly outmaneuvered me. Not that I was so stubbornly independent that I'd turn down help at this point—but I didn't relish the thought of having Trowa get hurt because he came with me, instead of staying with Quatre.

"Heero—it's over," Quatre said, cutting into my brooding. "In a few hours it'll all be over, and even Khushrenada will have to know it's too late to strong-arm you into giving up the disks."

"I hope so," I said fervently.

After ending the call with Quatre, I called the building superintendent, and he wasted no time in getting down to my place to effect some repairs.

He muttered about the shoddy security in the building, and how he kept advising the owner to get a better system, but I assured him that break-ins happen all the time, even with high-tech security systems.

I couldn't help thinking that all the cameras and locks in the world hadn't kept Khushrenada from slipping undetected into Zechs Merquise's penthouse to kill him.

Well—undetected except by Duo. The human factor.

Thank God for the human factor. It solved as many crimes as technology ever did.

I figured while the super was working on the door, I could start making trips to my car with my luggage. So I left him at his task, cautioning him to wear his work gloves and keep any pieces of scrap he had to remove, in case they might contain fingerprints.

I hadn't thought I was taking that much—some clothes and food, a few cds not crushed in the wreckage, blankets and towels, and of course Duo's ashes, pictures, and the Reapers jacket. But surprisingly, I ended up filling the back seat of my car and most of the trunk.

When I returned for the last bag, the super was done rigging up a padlock, and handed me the key with instructions to have the officers who came to inspect the crime scene turn it in when they were done, so he could proceed with the complete door replacement.

I thanked him and sent him on his way, stepping into the foyer to take a quick look around and see if I'd forgotten anything important.

I'd finished that final check, walked back to the door, and was lifting my last bag, when the sound of a footstep had me whirling in alarm and reaching for my gun.

I guess paranoia dies hard—I was half-expecting it to be someone Khushrenada sent to finish me off.

Instead, Trowa was standing there in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jacket. He quirked a vague smile as I sheepishly holstered my gun and looked around my apartment with a raised eyebrow. "And I thought Duo was a lousy housekeeper—."

I rolled my eyes, and shoved the suitcase into his hands. "Make yourself useful, why don't you?"

Smirking at my tone, he hefted the bag, and accepted the soda I went back to the refrigerator and brought to him. "What? No coffee?"

"They broke the machine," I said sourly.

"Bastards."

We rode the elevator down in silence, though I took the opportunity to study him with a sidelong glance. He looked a bit pale and tired, and I wondered if he was sleeping any better yet.

"So—Quat told me you're taking some time off," he said conversationally as we walked up to the car and I popped the trunk.

"Wufei's a blabbermouth," I grumbled, stuffing the last of my luggage in and closing it. "I need to—get away for awhile."

"Yeah." He watched me walk around to the driver's side, his green eyes pensive. Then he nodded towards the loaded back seat of my car. "Looks like you plan to be away a _long _while."

"I—don't know how long," I admitted.

_As long as it takes the memories to become bearable? As long as it takes to forget Duo's dying words? Forever?_

"I—promised Wufei I'd come back for the wedding at least," I told him.

"Good. That's good." Trowa's own eyes looked a bit haunted. "Quatre's taking me to one of his mountain chalets for a bit—after the verdict. He said it's beautiful—that it will cheer me up." His face looked anything but cheerful. "Maybe he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does," the dancer added somberly.

I gave a wry snort. "I hardly know you at all—but I know it's gonna take a long time for _anything _to really cheer you up."

He smiled sadly. "You too." He frowned a bit, shifting restlessly. "Did I ever say thanks for all you did for Duo?"

"Didn't seem like I did very much at all," I sighed. "Not like Zechs Merquise—." I found myself thinking of all the crime lord had been willing to do to protect his future with Duo.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to be like Zechs," Trowa said quickly. "Don't get me wrong; they had a good thing going. But when they were out in public, you could tell Duo was trying a little too hard to be—well—worthy, I guess. With you, it was different. He seemed more—at home." He raised a less troubled face to me. "Thanks."

"For what?" I asked hoarsely, trying not to show how much it hurt to dwell on all the might-have-beens.

"For genuinely loving him—just the way he was. I wish—I wish he'd had more time—to enjoy that."

"Fuck!" I blurted, turning sharply away and clapping a hand over my mouth to stifle an agonized gasp.

Why the hell did he have to say _that_? It brought an all-too familiar stab of pain that hurt more than the bullet Catherine had dug out of my arm.

And speaking of arms, a pair slid around my waist from behind, and a face nestled into the back of my neck. "Sorry—'m sorry."

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I heard soothing "shushing" noises, and became aware of the wetness of tears soaking into the back of my shirt as Trowa sobbed just as helplessly. It was strangely comforting to realizing I wasn't the only one to feel the loss of the smart-mouthed, streetwise beauty I'd fallen in love with.

Had Trowa even had a chance to cry about it? Or had Quatre tried to constantly buoy up his spirits? Now that I thought about it, though I'd seen him pale and drawn and unhappy looking, I had yet to see Barton break down and cry.

"Jesus," I whispered. "'Bout time you let it out."

His arms tightened convulsively, but his soft, heartbreaking sobs didn't let up for quite a while. Not that I minded—it was kind of nice to be the one doing the consoling for a change. I put my arms over his, gently holding them in place and just waiting in silence for him to run out of tears.

It took a bit longer, but he gradually relaxed against me and stopped crying—then pulled away and turned his back, self-consciously wiping his face with a sleeve.

"Fucking hell, Barton," I said huskily. "You should've come over a couple of weeks ago and we could've both gotten some of this shit out of our systems."

He gave me a watery smile over his shoulder, and managed a wry snort. "Yeah, like I'm gonna cry on a cop's shoulder—."

"Any time," I offered promptly.

"It's just—I think because it's almost over—it just kind of overwhelmed me this morning," he admitted quietly. "While I had the trial to focus on—."

"It helped, didn't it?"

"It helped push the pain into the background," he admitted.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it stop," I pointed out.

"What does?"

"I'll let you know when I find out." I gave a wan smile of my own.

"You think you'll find the answer—out there?"

"I sure as hell hope so."

"You sure being alone is the way to go?"

"Chang asked me the same thing." I gestured to the velvet-wrapped bundle in the middle of the front seat. "But I'm not really alone, am I?"

Trowa winced slightly. "Where will you go?"

"I dunno. Up the coast. Probably stop in Euphoria at some point. Duo liked it there. I think he'd want to go back."

"And then—?"

"I honestly don't know. I haven't thought beyond taking the ashes—. After that, I really will be alone."

He laid a hand on my arm. "Naw, man. Y'won't. For one thing, dumpin' Duo's ashes into the ocean won't get him out of your system. He kinda stays with ya, if y'know what I mean. And secondly, the rest of us will be here waiting for you to show your surly face in town again." He smirked, though it still looked a bit forced. "Got free passes to the circus any time you want."

"That's too good an offer to pass up," I grinned back. "So—you ready to go see this thing through?"

He nodded, walking around to the passenger side of the car. "Guess we gotta do this 'united front' thing one more time, eh?"

"At least," I agreed.

As I climbed into the car, I felt the dampness on the back of my shirt, and picked up the Reapers jacket, debating whether or not to wear it.

Trowa caught the hesitation, and gave a quick nod. "I think you should."

So I pulled it on over my shirt, as if wrapping myself in an embrace from Duo. And it _did _feel right. While I could make the excuse of having a wet shirt I needed to cover, in reality, donning that jacket felt like I was bringing Duo into the courtroom with us.

Between that and the outpouring of emotion Barton and I had shared, my mind was curiously calm as we drove in companionable silence to the courthouse.

I should have been anxious about the jury's decision, tense and edgy about the break-in at my apartment, and apprehensive about the unmapped road trip I'd shortly be taking. But I simply felt—wrung out.

I was eager for the verdict, to be sure—but not frantic. I knew that even if he was acquitted of this one crime, Khushrenada wouldn't escape justice for long.

* * *

Of course, when we got to the courthouse, it was a worse media circus than it had been the first day of the trial, and it took Barton and me the better part of an hour to work our way through security and gain admission to the restricted levels of the building.

But we finally made it to the floor where the courtroom was located and ended up waiting for admittance with the rest of the mob.

I'd been looking for Alexander since we got there, expecting to see him ready and waiting to take Khushrenada into custody, if the murder rap failed. But the FBI agent was curiously absent. Probably still off doing damage control in his leaky organization.

And he'd thought I'd want to join them? No thanks. With all its own flaws, the precinct I worked in was still the job I enjoyed.

Or I _had _enjoyed, until lately. I thought I might find that satisfaction in it once again—eventually. I knew one thing for sure; I had a good partner and good friends, and life—even without Duo—was still better than the alternative.

Wasn't I just the philosopher?

"Where the fuck is Chang?" I muttered, looking restlessly at my watch.

"You kidding, Yuy? He and Cathy are probably still trying to convince those security goons she hasn't got a gun stashed in her poofed-up hair," Trowa snorted.

I was really starting to like the guy. He had a knack for saying just the right thing at times. I could see why Duo had adored him—he was good company and had a calming manner about him.

"Well, if they tried groping her the way they did Duo, Chang probably broke someone's arm," I quipped back with a smirk.

"I'll help him," came the quick response.

As the doors to the courtroom were opened and people began filing in, my cell phone rang.

"Yuy."

"Heero? It's Wufei—."

"Where are you?"

"Catherine and I are at the hospital. Some idiot ran us off the road—must've been drunk the way he was weaving—. Anyhow, we're fine. They're just finishing checking Catherine's ankle. It's a bit sore—."

"We're heading into the courtroom now," I told him. "You'll miss the announcement—."

"That's okay. We'll be there by the time you finish—to celebrate," he added optimistically.

"Just look after Catherine. Jesus, 'Fei—I'm glad you're all right!"

I heard a smile—just like Quatre had said you could—as he replied. "Thanks. See you soon."

Trowa glanced questioningly at me. "What was that about Catherine—?"

"They had a little accident, but they're fine—."

My phone rang again and I answered impatiently, wanting to get inside and find a ringside seat to watch Khushrenada get what was coming to him.

"Yuy."

"So—are your partner and his lovely fiancée all right, Detective Yuy?"

I paused, feeling ice spread through my veins. "Who is this?"

"The one who paid you a visit last night—only you were too rude to show up."

"Listen—!"

"No! You listen! After the acquittal, you'd better make arrangements to return my employer's property—unless you want your partner to have a more serious accident—perhaps terminal. Or maybe something—unfortunate—could happen to his pretty little gal—or the stripper and lawyer you spend so much time with—."

I felt my throat constrict, and my voice was a livid whisper when I spoke. "Listen, you fucking piece of shit—you lay a hand on him, or anyone else, an' I'll rip your goddamned heart out of your chest with my bare hands!"

"Gotta catch me first, asshole. Just remember, you've been warned."

Trowa was staring at me, brow furrowed with concern. "Yuy? What was that about?"

"N-nothing," I stammered quickly, slamming my phone shut and stuffing it into my pocket.

"Cell phones off!" the bailiff at the door reminded me curtly as I started past him.

I dug it out, obligingly switching it off, and then striding quickly into the courtroom—immediately catching sight of Khushrenada and his lawyers. The crime lord's gaze sought mine at once, and a slow, menacing smile graced his lips.

"Bastard!" I swore softly. "I'll fuckin' kill—."

I'd started towards him, when I felt Trowa's hand close on my arm in a surprisingly fierce grip. "Talk to me, Yuy," he murmured in an undertone, shoving me ahead of him into a row of seats and all but forcing me into one.

I glared at him as he plunked down beside me, using his body to act like a barrier between me and the hated syndicate leader.

Deep green eyes delved into mine. "Something just set you off. What?"

"Chang's accident—wasn't an accident."

Trowa stiffened, his face turning bleak. "They want the disks, don't they?"

"Quatre told you?"

"He's my lover; of course he told me." Trowa brushed aside my outrage, not realizing it was fear for his safety if Khushrenada ever learned that he knew about the disks.

"Barton—you pretend you never heard about them!" I cautioned.

The courtroom was filling up fast, and I desperately cast about for a way to warn Wufei of his danger. I couldn't pull out my cell without tipping off Khushrenada—and probably getting thrown out by the goon at the door.

"This court will come to order—," began the bailiff.

Trowa poked at my side, still prying for information, and I slapped his hand away, trying to focus on how to neutralize the threat.

The threat.

_Khushrenada._

And why did whoever had called me say "acquittal," as if it was a sure thing? If Khushrenada was acquitted, he'd be released—free to take the reins of his empire again—and try to silence me before I destroyed it.

Apparently he didn't realize I'd shared the disks with Alexander—though considering his information network, he had to know his corrupt agents had been collared.

Unless Alexander was one of them, but not on the list—.

I had to stop thinking like that, or it would drive me crazy. Alexander couldn't be in on it, or he'd have blown me away that day in my car—silenced me and taken the disks. I felt certain of that.

But speaking of him, he _still _hadn't arrived. I'd expected him to be in court for the verdict, eager to lord it over Khushrenada that he was screwed no matter what.

There'd been that frantic call yesterday—so had Alexander dashed off on another mission? What could be more important than the judgment we'd all been awaiting?

And what the hell could I do to stop Khushrenada if he'd bought himself an acquittal?

Reaching a snap decision, I shoved my car keys into Trowa's hand, leaning in to whisper in his ear, and catching a slight scent of cigarettes that reminded me of Duo.

"Listen, Tro'. If for some reason I can't make the trip, will you take Duo's ashes to Euphoria?"

"What?" His eyes sought mine, even as the judge was asking the jury if they'd reached a verdict. "What are you going to do?"

"Chang can tell you how to get there. Just promise!"

He flinched, and then nodded slowly, almost questioningly. "I promise."

I turned to face the front of the courtroom, hoping Chang would forgive, or at least understand, what I planned to do if "not-guilty" was announced. I surreptitiously reached up under the Reapers jacket I was wearing and put a hand on the butt of my gun.

"Yes, Your Honor—in the matter of the State versus Treize Khushrenada—we the jurors find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree."

There was a collective gasp from the entire courtroom, and a growing swell of amazed murmurs. But out of everyone there, Khushrenada and his lawyers looked the most shocked.

For my part, I let out a near-sobbing breath of relief at knowing Treize Khushrenada would not be walking out of there a free man. Not that he would have anyway—once I'd decided that his threats against people I considered virtual _family _warranted lethal force.

I'd have put a bullet between his eyes and gladly taken the consequences. What's the worst that could have happened? Jail time? Or death at the hands of his vengeful lackeys? Acceptable, if it protected those I held dear.

Now I just needed to get word to Alexander to fuckin' cut Khushrenada off from outside contact until the downfall of Oz was well under way. And if he wasn't around shortly, I felt certain Captain Po would take action once I told her about the attack on Wufei and Catherine.

I felt Trowa put a warm hand on my arm, and lean in close. "Jesus, Yuy—you were—? You'd have _shot _him?"

"In a heartbeat." As I turned a shaky smile towards the slender dancer, my gaze slid past him and I saw Relena and her father standing just inside the door.

She was dressed in a pink frock, her hair pulled back into its customary style. She looked—very innocent.

But I knew how guilty she was—all that she'd done—and looked for a bailiff to take her into custody.

My searching gaze caught her eyes, and—she smiled, almost warmly.

How—odd.

Then she reached into her tiny purse, and with a dainty, gloved hand, drew out a sleek .38 and raised it unhesitatingly towards Khushrenada.

I opened my mouth to shout a warning—but before I could—before _anyone _could even react—she fired off five quick, successive shots.

If there'd been chaos at the verdict, it quadrupled at the roar of shots and the sight of Khushrenada clutching his chest and staring in disbelief into Relena's icy blue eyes before crumpling to the floor.

I shoved people aside and tackled Relena before the dazed court officers had even twitched in reaction, wresting the gun from her unresisting hand and pinning her down.

"Why?" I demanded harshly.

Granted, I'd wanted to do the same thing myself—but I knew _she_ wasn't looking for revenge on Duo's behalf.

So—_why_?

"He'd have told them about my father," she whispered. "That was the deal—if he was convicted, he promised he'd ruin him."

"Being related to Merquise wouldn't have ruined him," I told her sternly. "It would have blown over eventually. But having a murderer for a daughter—?"

She gave me a wide-eyed, stricken look as the court officers took her from me, slapping her in handcuffs and dragging her out of the room.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I spat, turning a wrathful gaze to the Chief. "Why the hell did you bring her here?"

"She said she wanted to turn herself in!" he sputtered. "She said she'd confess to everything!"

I shook my head, picking the .38 up off the floor along with her purse. "What'd she do—tell the guys at the security desk the gold on the pocketbook is what set off the metal detectors?"

He nodded, looking more horrified by the minute. "Oh, God—I should never have let her talk me into this—."

"No. You shouldn't," I said coldly. "She should have gone down to the station to turn herself in, and you know it. You should have guessed she had something else in mind, wanting to come to the courthouse."

"Why? What did she say to you?"

"She did it to protect your reputation," I told him flatly. "She knew about Zechs and had been to see him—and she was afraid there'd be a scandal if the press found out his link to you. Khushrenada played on that and used her. He was blackmailing her, Chief."

"That's what Captain Po said, when she brought the warrant—but I didn't have a chance to discuss it with Relena—to explain that it didn't matter. She showed up this morning out of nowhere and wanted to surrender to the police—."

"Well, she did," I shrugged. "But not for the crime you thought it would be."

He turned as Captain Po stalked over, and I handed her the gun and purse, shook my head, and stepped away so she could deal with the Chief in her own way.

Trowa stood dumbstruck, his eyes darting between the crowd gathered around Khushrenada, the people scrambling to make room for paramedics, and the bailiffs trying to herd everyone out.

I caught his arm. "C'mon—let's get the hell out of here."

"But—who was the blonde—and why—? What just happened?" he asked in confusion.

"Khushrenada found out it doesn't pay to threaten family," I shrugged.


	67. Goodbyes

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: Okay—there was a request for Heero to break down and stop calling Quatre "counselor" or Winner—so here ya go, Twilight! And the closing line to the chapter was provided by Kaeru Shisho and modified a teensy bit by me. If you wanna cry while you read this, put on Jackson Browne's song: For a Dancer. Or better yet, The Cult: Painted on My Heart.

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Seven: Goodbyes

At my mention of family, I noticed Trowa's gaze went straight to the front of the room, searching for Quatre in the mash of people.

I caught a glimpse of his shining blonde hair, as he slipped between bodies, heading in our direction. "He's coming," I assured the dancer, knowing he'd understand whom I was referring to. "Let's get out into the hallway and we can regroup there."

Even as Trowa and I started fighting our way through the crowd towards the door, the paramedics came shoving in from the corridor—jostling us as they passed.

"Shit—guy's a mess!" one of them swore, upon seeing Khushrenada sprawled there on the floor, with his lawyers clustered around and bailiffs desperately trying to get a response from him.

"No fuckin' way," muttered another uniformed medic. "May as well have the coroner meet us at the hospital. You ain't gonna revive _this _one, Ralph."

"Dead at the scene," a third one sighed.

I glanced back one last time, noticing Quatre was practically right behind me, and then followed Trowa out the door, only to have Wufei nearly run us all down, as he was pushing through the crowd with Catherine in tow.

"Jesus, Yuy!" he gasped out, grabbing me by both shoulders and then pulling me into a brief, startling hug. "We were going through security when we heard there'd been a shooting in the courthouse! I thought maybe Khushrenada had someone try to silence you for good!"

I pushed him back, mustering a weak smile. "Not me, Chang. Khushrenada's the one that got silenced. By Relena Darlian."

He actually staggered back in shock, and might have fallen, if Catherine hadn't been there to brace him. "Re—Relena?" he gasped. "I don't believe it!"

"Believe it," Quatre spoke up, his face grave. "Five shots—dead center." His aquamarine eyes were wide, giving him a look of almost childlike wonder. "She wasn't taking any chances, was she?"

"She was afraid he'd spill the beans about her father being married to Zechs Merquise's mother."

Quatre frowned in confusion. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"

"_You_ knew?"

"Mister Noventa told me, while we were working on the case together. We got talking about the information leaks, and he told me what you'd shared with him."

"What a fuckin' waste," I muttered. "If Relena knew how many people already had that knowledge, she'd have realized there was no need to kill Khushrenada for it."

"Hey—you _wanted_ him dead!" Trowa pointed out.

Wufei snorted. "That surprises you? After all the bastard's done?"

"No—Yuy was serious about it. About doing it himself."

"What do you mean—?" Chang began.

I caught my partner's arm, and nodded to the others. "Can we take this outside, please? Before someone decides to detain us as witnesses?"

"What's wrong with that?" Winner asked. "We _did _witness the attack on Khushrenada."

"Yes—but I planned a trip for as soon as the verdict was in—and I'd like to start it sometime this century," I quipped, pushing Catherine gently in the direction of the exit. "And by the way, Chang—Catherine. Are you both sure you're okay?"

"We're fine," he assured me, stepping up to take Catherine's arm in a possessive grip, as she smiled and nodded brightly.

"We really are," she insisted.

I ended up sort of sandwiched between Chang and Catherine in front, and Barton and Winner behind. But we made our way out of the tumultuous courthouse via the employee entrance and headed for the parking lot, and some privacy.

There was a grassy area off to one side, with picnic tables for judicial system staff members who wanted to eat lunch there, and we gathered around one of those.

Chang immediately turned a searching gaze on me; I should have known he wouldn't let go of his earlier question. "What did Barton mean about you being serious about wanting Khushrenada dead? What happened?"

"Just before we went into the courtroom, he got a call on his cell, saying your accident wasn't one," Trowa blurted, ignoring my glare. "He went off the fuckin' deep end!"

I sighed, and explained to Wufei what the caller had said and threatened to do, and his face darkened to match mine. "If I catch the dishonorable cur—!" He pulled Catherine up against him in a protective gesture. But then his glance fell on the gun in my shoulder holster, and then darted towards Trowa and then back to my face.

And somehow he read all that I'd intended in my troubled gaze, and his face paled slightly. He opened and closed his mouth, and then drew a deep breath. "I'm glad Relena beat you to it."

I smirked darkly. "No, Chang, she didn't. If they'd acquitted him—." I let my sentence trail off, having enough presence of mind not to say anything more incriminating than I already had. Considering there were a lawyer, a cop, and two witnesses standing with me, it would have been pretty damned stupid.

"Shit," Chang breathed quietly.

Once again a long moment passed, as he apparently ran the scenario in his head, not liking how it played out.

Winner rose to the occasion, sort of edging between me and my partner, and draping an arm around both our shoulders. "It's over, gentlemen," he said quietly. "There's no point in playing the 'what-if' game."

"Yeah," Trowa threw in. "Just be glad it was the crazy bitch who pulled the trigger."

"I never would have pegged her as nuts," I muttered, shaking my head.

Chang raised an eyebrow speculatively. "Well, how stable can a woman be who keeps gravitating towards gay men, hm?"

He startled a reluctant chuckle out of me, easing some of the tension.

But Trowa brought it right back again. "So what'll we do about the fucker who called your cell, Yuy?"

Quatre spoke up again, his expression pensive. "I'd wager that with Khushrenada dead, whoever made those threats will disappear into the woodwork."

"Not if I can help it," Wufei growled. "I will pull Yuy's cell phone records and track down wherever the bastard called from. I _will _find him. _No_ one harms Catherine on my watch!"

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "You are so sexy when you get protective," she cooed.

He blushed, squirming a bit. "Do you have to do that?" he said plaintively. "You spoil the effect, you know."

"Save it for the bad guys," she teased. "We're among friends."

"Do you really think the people who trashed Yuy's apartment will back off?" Trowa asked a bit anxiously of his lover. "I mean, they didn't find the disks—and I'm sure there are people besides Khushrenada who want that information kept quiet."

Quatre shook his head. "Don't worry about them. Once word of what's on those disks hits the news, they'll know it's too late to keep a lid on it."

"But in the meantime—."

"I think Khushrenada's death will cause his thugs to hold back and await instructions from his successor. And I expect Agent Alexander to act long before one is appointed by the syndicate."

"But—Alexander wasn't in court today," I pointed out.

"Perhaps he's busy marshaling his forces to move against Oz."

"I don't think so," I mused. "He got some kind of urgent call yesterday, and my guess would be that he had problems within his own agency."

"Well then, he'll probably solve them and jump right into the battle with Oz. From what you told me, he's very keen to take them down."

I couldn't help smirking as I pictured Alexander's face when he heard the news about Khushrenada. He was gonna be pissed.

I might have felt a bit cheated myself—disappointed that the crime lord got off so easily. But then, knowing how far his tendrils of power reached, I realized there was no safe way to contain him. He'd strike from behind any walls and any bars. The only place that could isolate him from his minions was Hell itself—and I felt a moment of imaginary concern that he might take over down there.

"What the fuck are you smiling about, Yuy?" demanded my partner.

"Just thinking about Khushrenada, and remembering that saying 'Heaven doesn't want me and Hell's afraid I'll take over.'"

"Look at it this way," Winner pointed out. "Merquise got there first. He's got seniority."

"They have seniority in Hell?" Barton wondered, starting to look a bit amused at the subject.

"Of course," Quatre insisted. "Didn't you ever read your Old Testament? There's a hierarchy and everything!"

"I thought you were Muslim," came the dry response.

"That does not preclude my reading the Bible—. And just because I was raised that way, doesn't mean I _practice _the religion."

"Obviously not—or you wouldn't be with me—."

"Is there such a thing as a religious lawyer?" Catherine mused.

"Are you kidding?" Quatre shot back. "Do you _know_ how much praying goes on in courtrooms?"

"I thought that was schools," Trowa piped up. "Y'know—'as long as there are exams, there'll be prayer in schools'?"

I looked helplessly at Chang, wondering how we'd gotten onto such a tangent, and we got up and began walking towards my car, the others tagging along a moment later.

"You know," Wufei said conversationally. "I think that what Merquise did for Duo might have at least earned him a ticket out of Hell, don't you?"

I gaped at my partner. "Since when are you willing to think of Zechs Merquise as anything other than the Devil incarnate?"

"Since he wrote such a mushy, romantic letter to Duo—," came the teasing, half-serious response.

"Which Duo would've shoved down his throat," Trowa pointed out. "He hated that stuff. When Zechs called him 'Angel,' he just about ripped him a new asshole—told him 'Demon' was a much better name for him—and more masculine, too."

"You knew about the 'Angel' thing?" I asked in surprise.

"Only what Duo told me, when he'd bitch about it." He gave a slight shrug. "Of course, even when he was grumbling about the 'girly nickname' Zechs had for him, I could tell he kinda liked it at the same time. I think his bad boy image was mostly for show."

"I _know_ it was," I said firmly. "Not that he wasn't tough—because he was. He was very, very tough. But all you had to do was look at his drawings to know he had a gentle soul."

"Oh, he'd _so _kick your ass for saying it that way," Trowa chuckled. There was a trace of genuine mirth in the green eyes, and I caught a grateful look from Quatre as we reached my car.

"So—anyone up for lunch?" asked the lawyer.

I shook my head. "Take a rain check? I'd like to leave town before Captain Po wants me for a statement. I'm officially on vacation, you know."

"I thought it was still sick leave," countered my partner.

"I don't _feel _sick," I shrugged.

He gave a smile. "That's good to hear."

Quatre tried—I had to give him credit. He fixed those big blue eyes on me in a pleading stare, and tried to guilt me into joining them. But I pointed out that any delay was liable to give my boss a chance to change her mind and keep me around, when I really needed to be far away.

Besides, if someone on Khushrenada's payroll was still after me, I'd be safer traveling than I would hanging around town. I did experience a moment of concern for my friends, wondering if the man who had threatened them would truly back off. But at the very least, my leaving should draw him away from them.

And honestly, Chang was perfectly capable of protecting himself and Catherine, with or without my help.

As for Winner—he had a veritable army of personal staff—plus the streetwise stripper to watch his back. I thought they'd be okay. The tough part was convincing them that I would, too.

I managed it by pointing out that I could spot a tail a mile back, and that the places I was heading were not my usual haunts—so no one would be able to predict my moves. Plus, I'd already promised Chang to check in regularly, which would enable him to alert me if anything changed and he became aware of a new threat.

After that things got mushy to a point that would no doubt have nauseated Duo. Catherine gave me a hug and whispered her thanks for bringing the "Oriental Adonis" into her life. Winner did the same, but with the message that if I ever needed _anything_, any time, I was to call him.

I pulled back and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "_Me_? Call a _lawyer_?"

"No," he said in all seriousness. "You'd be calling a _friend_."

Though my breath caught at his warm tone, I managed a cocky smirk. "Yeah, Quat, I guess I would."

It was his turn to look startled at my use of not just his first name, but the nickname Duo had favored, and then he threw his arms around me _again_, squeezing hard. "You damn well better stay safe out there!"

Barton was next, giving a shake of his head and a wry smile at his lover's enthusiasm. With his typical low-key nature, he merely shook my hand, gave me back my car keys, and told me the Reapers jacket was a good look for me. He and I had shared all our confidences earlier in the day, when we were truly alone.

Chang then shocked me by giving me a second hug within the same half-hour as the first, and he reminded me of my promise to call him. He also assured me he'd take care of my apartment. Knowing that the intruder was the same one who'd run him off the road gave him added incentive to find clues amid the wreckage. And he said that once the investigation team had sifted through it with a fine-tooth comb, he'd handle the cleanup and insurance claim for me.

He was a true friend, and he'd been there all the time—hiding under a crusty, uptight exterior—like me.

I climbed in the car and gave a jaunty wave, then pulled out of the parking lot and navigated my way through the news vans and emergency vehicles ringing the block, until I found open road ahead of me.

And then I flicked on the cd player, since I knew all the radio stations would be broadcasting the fiasco at the courthouse, slipped in whatever cd was closest at hand, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

* * *

I started out on the highway, taking the opportunity to put some distance behind me. But once the unrelenting grey of skyscrapers and civilization gave way to green hills, I exited the interstate and switched to a pleasant country road.

It was easier to watch for a tail on a road with hardly any cars.

Of course, Odin hadn't raised any fools—so when I stopped at a roadside diner for a bite to eat, I took a few minutes to run my surveillance scan tool over the car. I knew all too well the kind of technology Khushrenada's people had, and that all it took was a small tracking device to keep tabs on someone's whereabouts.

The car was free of any "unauthorized equipment" as I'd expected it to be. Between having it at the mechanic's the previous day, and then pretty much moving my apartment contents into it, there'd been little opportunity for anyone to get near.

The parking lot at the courthouse was monitored by security—so if anyone had tried anything there, they'd have been apprehended.

But paranoia dies hard—and the boy scout motto even harder. I was always prepared.

For everything except Duo.

He'd taken me completely by surprise—sweeping me off my feet in a way no one ever had—and showing me how colorful life could really be. It was sort of like one of those movies that started in black and white, and then suddenly switched to color when the main character fell through a portal.

I wondered how those characters tolerated the transition back to black and white, after they'd experienced color—movies didn't seem to cover that part.

But even without Duo, my life was never going to be simple black and white again. He'd shown me a new way to live, and I was going to implement it—as soon as I got a good night's sleep.

Having been up packing all night, and then rushing to the courthouse, I was a bit sleep-deprived; and it caught up to me as soon as I'd eaten a substantial meal. So I found a small hotel, checked in a bit early, took my box of ashes inside, and then fell face down on the bed and was asleep almost instantly.

I woke to watery pre-dawn sunshine, and pushed up from the mattress, realizing I'd slept through the evening and night without interruption.

"Jesus," I muttered, rolling over and sitting up. "Slept like the dead."

Speaking of which…

I turned on the television as I headed out to the car for the change of clothes I hadn't even bothered to bring in the previous afternoon. And when I came back inside, the anchorwoman was predictably babbling on about the "Khushrenada slaying."

//_…and in a startling development after the guilty verdict was announced, Relena Darlian, the daughter of Police Chief Darlian, shot and killed Mister Khushrenada…//_

Ah. So he _was _dead. I'd been fairly sure of it from the number of shots fired, where they'd struck, and the talk from the paramedics. But it was still nice to hear.

//_…aren't telling us why she did it, or what she said to the officer who apprehended her immediately after the attack…//_

Oh. That would be me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, chewing on a protein bar and sipping a bottle of water, unable to tear myself away. Would Captain Po be calling me back, considering I'd been the one to hear Relena's excuse? But then, she had my cell number, and she hadn't called—so either Chang filled her in, or Chief Darlian repeated what I'd told him.

//_…second slaying at the courthouse in a matter of weeks…_//

An image of Duo flashed onto the screen—one of the less racy publicity shots from The Jungle.

//_…was brutally murdered while in the midst of testifying against Treize Khushrenada. Ms. Une, Khushrenada's assistant, was taken into custody and is still being held without bond in the mental ward of an undisclosed federal prison._

_In related news, the FBI today raided the headquarters of the Romefeller Foundation, seizing financial records, interoffice communications, and international trade documents. Acting on an anonymous tip, Chief Field Agent Alexander obtained disks left in a safety deposit box in the late Zechs Merquise's name. Information on those disks led to today's pre-dawn search of the international trade giant's facilities, and the subsequent arrests of top officials in that company…//_

And Treize wasn't here to see it. How—_not _sad!

It looked like Alexander had been promoted, too, ambitious ass that he was. He could _have_ it. Let Oz get pissed at him, instead of me.

I found myself grinning as I downed the last bite of my snack. It was over—truly over. Oz was finished—crushed—broken. There were not enough adjectives to describe how well and truly fucked they were, but I knew Duo could've thrown in a few.

"Yeah, we did it," I sighed, throwing myself back onto the bed and looking over at the velvet-wrapped box.

What I wouldn't have given to be looking at my lover instead, seeing him without the haunted look in his eyes that constant running and hiding had evoked. He deserved to enjoy the sweet taste of victory and the absence of fear.

Before I let myself slip into self-pity and regret, I shoved up off the bed and headed for the shower, knowing it would relax me and make me feel a lot better about everything.

It did, and by mid-morning I'd packed up the few things I brought into the hotel room, checked out, and gotten back on the road.

When I flipped out my cell phone to call Chang, however, I was met with a cracked screen and a spreading of black across the surface.

Well, shit—I must have broken it when I tackled Relena. And judging from the lack of even a dial tone when I tried dialing without using the display, there was internal damage as well. There'd be no calling in until I found a pay phone or a cellular distributor along the road.

Ever wondered whether there are wireless stores along country byways? There aren't.

I pulled into the next service station I passed, and jogged into the convenience store attached to it.

God spare me from clueless store clerks. I had an immediate flashback to the girl who'd been almost too busy flirting with her boyfriend, and me, to point me in the direction of the clubbing district the night Duo ran away from the log cabin.

This girl was chewing gum loudly, and popping it at regular intervals, staring at the television screen in the corner of the booth. "C'n I help you?"

"Do you have a pay phone?"

She looked up, and I noticed a piercing in one eyebrow, a shiny silver ring looping over it. "Used to—but they took it out a couple years ago."

"Do you know where there _is _a pay phone?" I sighed.

"'Round here?" She shook her head. "Couldn't tell ya. You should get a cell." Her gaze drifted back to the news program, which was still focused exclusively on the Khushrenada murder. And when Duo's picture was shown again, she smiled widely. "That guy is _so _hot!"

_No shit._

"I'd sleep with him _any _day—."

"He's gay," I said curtly, eager to crush her dream.

She looked sharply at me. "No way!"

I fixed her with a cold gaze that I'd been told was downright intimidating. "Do you not _listen _to what they're saying in the broadcast? He was Zechs Merquise's _boyfriend_."

"Oh." Her eyes went kind of round and she looked back at the screen for a second. "Who's Zechs Merquise?"

"He was a crime—." I cut myself off sharply, realizing at this rate I could be there all day. "He's dead," I said flatly. "So's the hot guy. Have a nice day."

I turned and stalked out, so perturbed by the drooling fan-girl that I didn't even bother to top off the tank. I had plenty of gas to make it to the next station, and I didn't want to contribute a red cent to the silly girl's paycheck.

About a mile down the road I burst out laughing and couldn't stop. Man, Duo would've had a field day with me over this. He'd have loved the instant jealousy that the girl's innocent comment brought on, and he'd have cracked up over my responses to her inane questions.

I finally had to pull over and wipe tears of hilarity out of my eyes so that I could drive again.

Then I resumed my search for a pay phone, eventually finding one in the foyer of a small diner where I stopped for lunch.

I'd all but given up by that time, thinking I might have to seek out a larger city in order to buy a new phone. But when I stopped at a mom and pop restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised.

I fished in a pocket for a handful of change, and fed enough into the phone to make the call.

To Chang's voice mail.

I sighed as I heard the recording, and waited for the beep. "Chang, you twit—pick up!" There was no response, so I continued on after a second or two. "My cell phone got busted—probably when I tackled Relena. So if you don't hear from me, it's because there are no fuckin' pay phones in existence any more—except apparently this one. Anyhow, I saw the news, and I'm going to assume it means we're off the hook. I'll still be cautious, in case any of Khushrenada's former thugs aren't smart enough to figure out their meal ticket ended with his death. But if they want anyone dead, it should be Alexander, since he took the credit and the glory." I chuckled quietly. "If you see him, tell him thanks."

I hung up, still smiling. I was glad Alexander had led the campaign against Romefeller and Oz. Whether or not it was deliberate on his part, to help hide my involvement, I appreciated the anonymity. And I was sure my friends did, too.

When I resumed my journey after a hearty lunch, I felt like I could drive forever. I'd taken along a coffee to go, and I replaced my quiet jazz cd with one from Duo's collection, only to find myself listening to something acoustic.

I scowled at the player. Since when did Duo enjoy acoustic music? I pawed through the scattered disks on the front seat and realized there was a pretty eclectic mix there, in spite of his hard rock image.

Once again I was amazed by his—diversity.

I came to a fork in the road, where I could choose either the inland route, or the more winding coastal one, and of course I elected the latter. I had all the time in the world to get to Euphoria. And frankly, the thought of parting with those ashes was a bit daunting.

But Trowa's reminder that throwing them into the ocean wouldn't get Duo out of my system was strangely reassuring, and kept me from turning the car around and fleeing back to the city and back to my apartment to hole up with the velvet-wrapped box forever.

It didn't, however, keep me from taking the scenic route. I stopped at a park by the ocean, with the word "moose" in the name—Moose Point, or Moosehead Park, or Moose-_something_—the point was I couldn't see "moose" and not think of Duo. So I doubled back a bit, bought a takeout dinner, and drove to the oceanside park to sit at a rickety picnic table and enjoy the meal and the view.

Then I found a motel located right on the water, and checked in early enough that I could take a long walk on the beach, picking up seashells as I went, and thinking about moments I'd had with Duo.

It was interesting—how each shell was a bit different—no two worn in exactly the same places, or with exactly the same color pattern. Each one was shaped by its environment and the waves and currents that had brought it there to be deposited on the shore. And each one was fucking beautiful—even the broken one whose edges had been polished smooth by the pounding waves, the outer layer worn away to show a pearly, translucent interior.

And how the fuck did I translate that into the way Duo found my hidden interior?

He did. I could admit that now. Hell, I'd admitted it quite a while ago. He'd found parts of me I hadn't known existed. But I recognized them now—after the fact.

What the fuck is it about love that makes you look inside yourself as much as at the person you love?

And when did my priorities change so much?

I walked back to my room with my pockets bulging, wondering if I could find someone able to make something out of the treasures I'd collected. I'd seen leaves coated in metal made into jewelry—so maybe I could have one of the gleaming white scallop shells hung on a silver chain for Chang to give to Catherine. Or perhaps someone could stick some into a block of plastic as a paperweight—the way they did with insects. I'd always thought those were kind of ugly and stupid. But the shells were different.

They were beautiful. And they made me think of Duo, which was a mixed blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

* * *

It took me four days to reach Euphoria. As I'd said before, I was a bit reluctant to actually lay Duo to rest—afraid that somehow I'd lose the feeling that he was still with me in spirit. It may have been an inanimate box of ashes, but it was the only tangible link I had to the man I'd given my heart to.

"Suck it up, Yuy," I muttered, driving down the familiar street into the small town.

Not much had changed since I was there last.

Okay, _nothing_ had changed. The little fishing village seemed suspended in time—looking as weathered and rustic as ever. And it made my stomach lurch miserably to think Duo would never get to see it again.

I parked near the boardwalk where Duo and I had started our trek back to the cottage those few weeks ago, and I got out and stretched languidly, listening to the steady swish of the waves rolling up on the town beach.

There were some kids playing with a beach ball, and a few adults scattered about on the sand, enjoying the warm afternoon sunshine, as seagulls wheeled lazily on the steady sea breeze. You could've taken a picture and stuck in on a postcard as the stereotypical day at the beach.

But there was nothing stereotypical about my purpose in being there. And I had to force myself to take the box of ashes out of the velvet pouch and tuck it inside my jacket. Faced with an imminent farewell to my lover's remains, I felt a sudden surge of panic.

I couldn't do it! It would make it too final—make it feel like I was really letting go.

And then I watched a gust of wind catch the beach ball and blow it far enough out into the surf that the children couldn't follow—but one of their parents saved the day by swimming out to retrieve it, throwing it back to their waiting arms.

Okay. You didn't have to hit me in the face with a metaphor. I'd come here to return Duo to Euphoria permanently, and I was going to see it through, trusting that letting go would only be temporary.

I stepped out onto the boardwalk, and set a brisk pace up to the cliff trail, trying not to dwell on the pain, but on the _good_ memories.

_Duo tugging me along the path, pointing out the shimmering waves and the way the spray flew up into the air when they crashed on the rocks…the sun on his skin, the wind teasing at his hair…the concern on his face when I'd had to rest…_

"_Marry me."_

"_I love you."_

I'd promised him forever, and he'd promised me the same. I could only hope there was some kind of afterlife where we'd have a chance to keep our promises.

When I reached the rock where I'd rested halfway up the trail, I sat there again, watching the same view I'd shared with Duo, and gradually screwing up my courage until finally I made myself open the box, walk to the edge of the cliff, and scatter the ashes into the salty breeze.

I half-opened my mouth to say goodbye, and then just clamped it shut and swallowed hard to fight back the stinging tears. It hurt more than I'd thought, watching the particles of ash just pour down towards the ocean. And then they were gone, and I felt like a vast emptiness was waiting to swallow me if I stepped away from that spot.

I'd actually _left _Duo there. And I suddenly felt stupid for having done it. I should have had the ashes buried at a local cemetery in the city—closer to where I lived, and where Duo had lived. I could have put up a nice head stone that Father Maxwell could have blessed, and Sister Helen could have laid flowers on.

I could have visited on weekends and kept the illusion alive a little longer; the illusion that Duo was still here with me—somehow—that a part of him was always going to be with me.

Instead, I was going to have to walk away and _leave _him.

I pulled the jacket closer around me, shivering a little in the brisk wind that swept up from the ocean. But I felt as cold inside as outside.

"I can't do it," I groaned, sitting back down on the rock. "I can't say goodbye. I just suck at this." I closed my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands against them. "You were supposed to be the survivor Duo—the one who made it through everything. You survived living on the streets, running with a gang—you outlived the whole fucking gang. So why couldn't you have outlived _me_?"

In a fit of anger—or just plain frustration—I stood up and flung the box after the ashes; and it was only my promise to Chang that kept me from throwing myself along as well.

I'd thought I was past the worst—thought I was dealing with my loss. But suddenly, I felt like a recovering alcoholic or drug addict discovering that the craving just never, never goes away. And if Duo was my addiction, I'd have given anything for one more fix.

Why had I thought it was okay to come here alone?

I backed away from the ledge, and turned my steps back down towards the beach, knowing it was sheer folly to stand there any longer and dwell on the fact that I'd feel the pain as deeply a year from now as I did at that very moment.

Sucked to be me.

When I got back to the car, I slid into the driver's seat and started it up at once, no longer able to stand the irony of being in a town named Euphoria when I was so damned far from it. I'd found euphoria in Duo's arms—and without them, the name of the town mocked me. I suddenly wanted out of there in a big hurry.

What I really needed was a dirt town named Desolation, a seedy bar, and a slug of tequila—but as I headed for the highway, I thought I could settle for two out of three.


	68. The Long Way Home

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC in progress, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: An even better song for last chapter would've been The Cult's: Painted on My Heart (and Duo would LOVE that song).

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Eight: The Long Way Home

I headed out of Euphoria without a backward glance.

I didn't _dare_ look back, or I might not have been able to leave. I'd thought bringing the ashes there would give me a sense of peace, or closure, or—something. But instead, I felt more lost than ever.

I considered going back to the lake house, or Quatre's log cabin—as if being in places where Duo had been at my side would somehow make me feel closer to him—like going back to try to find the pieces of my soul I'd left behind.

But I knew they wouldn't be there, and I was afraid the emptiness I'd felt on the cliffs would just grow each time I failed to find what I sought.

So—where to go?

I pulled over at the town line, and dug the map out of my glove compartment, trying to occupy my mind with something other than the urge to run back and try to pick the scattered ashes from the ocean to take home with me.

It looked like the nearest town was at least a couple of hours away, and on the verge of pulling back out onto the road, I hesitated, and my stomach gave a rumbling growl.

I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and while I had snack bars and bottled water, I didn't relish the idea of using them to hold myself over until the next opportunity for real food. The nearest decent place to eat was back the way I'd just come; and as I recalled, The Gull's Wing had both good food, and the dark beer Duo loved so much.

If I were totally honest about it, part of me hadn't wanted to leave in the first place; part of me would always associate the town with Duo—though that brought both pain and pleasure. Thus, it was with a mixture of relief and apprehension that I turned back towards Euphoria—back towards the place I'd left half of my soul.

Back to the town that mocked me with its name.

Well, why not? I deserved it, didn't I? I deserved to be laughed at by the universe, since I'd been foolish enough to think I could blithely dump Duo's ashes into the ocean and feel relieved about it.

The sun had long since set by the time I parked behind The Gull's Wing and got out, and I felt the chill breeze off the water. So I pulled my jacket tighter, and as my fingers sank into the soft, supple leather, I thought of all the times Duo must have worn it, and I felt a tiny bit closer to him.

I found, miraculously enough, another pay phone just inside the foyer of the restaurant, and I almost stopped to call Chang—but decided to wait until after I'd eaten. Since that first pang of hunger hit me out near the highway, my stomach had been protesting its emptiness quite insistently.

There was no one greeting people at the door, so I made my way up to the counter, hearing rather loud music playing in the kitchen, and snippets of conversation.

"…late…"

"Sorry…"

"…luck?"

"…"

"…don't give up hope…"

And then Mary backed out the door, still chattering with Pops, I guessed, until she noticed me at the counter and blinked in surprise.

"Oh, sorry! Didn't hear the little door chime."

She hastily grabbed a menu and set it in front of me, hurrying to fill a water glass and plunk it down, before grabbing a place setting and adding that.

"Get you something to drink?"

"Coffee."

Yes, I still wanted liquor—but it could wait until after I found a place to spend the night. I wasn't so far gone that I'd risk drinking and driving.

She hesitated, looking at me kind of strangely, and then giving a quick, uneasy smile. "It's still brewing—have it for you in a sec—." She pattered off into the kitchen, and I busied myself flipping through the menu.

I'd almost forgotten that the place served some pretty fancy dinners, in spite of its outward appearance, and I smiled wistfully at the names of spices Duo had used when he cooked for Chang and me. There was even a tarragon chicken meal—and I knew I'd end up ordering it.

There was a quiet clunk in front of me, and I glanced up to see a frosty bottle of dark beer sitting on the counter, even as my server moved smoothly around and leaned next to me—just slightly in my personal space.

"I didn't order—."

"I know," came an achingly familiar voice. "It's on the house. How 'bout after dinner, I take you from Euphoria to nirvana?"

I froze, my brain going numb at the sound of a voice that had haunted my dreams as well as my nightmares. And I closed my eyes tightly, wondering why at this late juncture I'd start hearing things. I had to be going crazy—there was no other explanation.

I swallowed and turned my head, opening my eyes to confirm my insanity, and immediately fell into two deep pools of indigo. I could actually feel the color drain from my face.

"Took you long enough to get here," Duo groused, apparently enjoying the shocked look on my face. "I'm glad Chang managed to reach you, though—." His voice trailed off and he blinked a couple of times. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

I shook my head dazedly. "You—you're dead!"

He ducked his head and stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back onto the stool next to me and looking suddenly shy and uneasy. "Uh—yeah," he said rather softly, his cocky tone replaced with uncertainty. "That's what they told me when I woke up in the hospital." A fleeting smile touched just the corners of his lips. "I was pretty pissed when I found out they kept you out of the loop." He gave a derogatory snort. "Loop? Actually, it was just _him_—Alexander. I don't think he even told your boss."

"I—don't know—," I stammered, still trying to grasp what was happening. Had I fallen asleep behind the wheel? Because I didn't remember arriving at a hotel or going to bed—but I had to be dreaming—.

"He, uh, wouldn't back down an' let me contact you, either. But I made him at least promise to give you the 'ashes.'" He gave a timid smile. "I was kinda counting on you to bring them here."

"How—how did _you _get here?" I blurted, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this wasn't some bizarre dream. "Does Alexander know where you are?"

He shook his head. "Look, 'Ro—I don't wanna talk about that right now. I just—need to know—."

"Know—?"

"About us—." He shrugged one shoulder in that adorably uncertain way of his. "I'm guessin' from your reaction that you haven't talked to Trowa or Wufei—you didn't know, did you?"

"Know what?" I was beginning to sound like a broken record, but considering my state of shock, I was lucky I could force any words out at all.

"That I was alive." His eyes searched mine. "You really came here just to bring the ashes, didn't you? To—say goodbye."

"Well—yes." Why did it feel like there was a question in his words that I was missing?

He stood there for a long moment, shifting uncomfortably, and then his beautiful indigo gaze dropped to the floor, and his shoulders slumped just slightly. "I—guess I understand. I mean, if you just came to say 'goodbye,' I wouldn't expect—." He put a hand to his face, rubbing at his temple. "I know you musta gone through Hell—the funeral an' all—."

I finally pulled myself together enough to stand up and face him, drinking in the sight, even while noticing he looked a bit pale, and like he'd lost some weight.

He raised slightly too-bright eyes to me, and I'd have sworn his lips were trembling with suppressed emotion. "Look, if it's—. If you—changed your mind. I mean, after all the shit you went through—an' hell, I wouldn't blame you for cuttin' your losses an'—."

I crushed my lips to his in a desperate attempt to stop his rambling, heart-breakingly insecure monologue. And I slid my arms around his waist, pulling him into me, drinking in his taste and his smell and the feel of him warm, and alive, in my arms.

His lips parted and the rest of him just sort of melted against me, as he returned the embrace.

When I was desperate enough for air, I shifted my face to the side, burying it in the thick chestnut hair and all but crushing him in a fierce hug.

I didn't realize I was crying until he turned his face towards mine, making a puzzled sound. And then his eyes filled with concern and remorse.

"Jesus, 'Ro—I'm sorry!" he breathed, his own eyes brimming with tears as he used his thumbs to brush the ones from my cheeks. His lips ghosted over my face, and then he pulled me into another desperate embrace. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed against my shoulder. "I never wanted him to keep it from you—not from the very beginning—an' I'd have called sooner, but—."

"Shhh—," I soothed running a hand over the back of his head in a calming gesture, my own tears stilling as I tried to chase his away.

And then I jerked back in surprise, not feeling a familiar braid trailing down his back. "They _cut _it?" I gasped in horror.

He gave a watery smile, brushing tears away. "Fuck, no," he managed in a voice still choked by emotion. "I'd have gone freakin' ballistic over that." He pulled it from under his tee shirt, and sort of draped it across my hands. "I work in food services, Yuy. It's either tuck it in or wear a hair net—an' I'm not the hair net type—."

"No, you're not," I managed with a shaky laugh, pulling him close again. "Fuck, I can't believe you're alive—."

I was still torn between laughing and crying, my emotions so tangled and twisted that I could barely draw breath, though another choked sob made its way out.

"God—if I'd known how much you were hurting—I'd have gotten away sooner—called—_something_."

"Well what the fuck did you think?" I managed a bit accusingly. "That I'd just get over you an' move on—? Jesus, Duo—you don't know how deep inside me you are!"

"Not as deep as I wanna be," he purred into my ear, pressing even closer. "I missed you so much," he whispered, a shiver running through him as I dropped my lips to his neck and kissed that spot just under his ear that always drove him crazy. "_So _much."

"I _told _you he'd show up," came a laughing voice from the doorway to the kitchen.

I flinched in surprise, somehow having forgotten that anything existed besides Duo and me, and looked up at the smiling girl.

She winked broadly at me. "He's been climbing the walls waiting for you—ever since the big shootout at the courthouse."

My gaze shifted to Duo. "She knows?"

He nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. "How 'bout we go somewhere and talk? There's a lot for me to explain."

"Okay—." Just then, my stomach growled rather insistently, and Duo frowned.

"You came here to eat," he said, as if it just occurred to him. "Shit, 'Ro—when was the last time you ate?"

"Breakfast," I admitted.

"Sonofa—." He pushed me back onto my stool, picking up the dark beer and gesturing Mary to bring over the cup of coffee she was holding in her hands. "Did he order supper yet?" he asked the girl.

"Not yet."

Duo turned a questioning look on me, and I caught his wrist, pulling him in for a kiss. "All I want is you," I told him firmly.

"Yeah—well—as nice as that is, there's the matter of what you _need_. And you need food."

"The tarragon chicken sounded interesting," I mused. "Can you make it without leaving my sight?"

He rolled his eyes. "I suppose if I prop the kitchen door open—."

"I'm serious," I told him, sobering. "I don't think—. If you aren't where I can see you—right now—?"

"I can dish up a meal," Mary said with amusement. "I may be the world's worst cook—but I can handle a ladle with the best of 'em. Be right back!"

She slipped into the kitchen, and Duo reached to smooth my hair, his worried gaze searching my face. "D'you know how fuckin' sorry I am for what you went through?"

"I get it," I assured him. "And I know it wasn't your fault. That bastard Alexander—. I _knew _he pulled a fast one. I fuckin' _knew_ it. But when the Captain showed me autopsy pictures—."

"Fucking hell," Duo breathed in horror, pulling me close again. "I didn't know, Heero. I swear, I had no idea how far they went—what they'd stoop to—. I'd have never let it go this long."

"Like you had a choice," I chided, my emotions warring between elation, disbelief and anger. "That bastard from the FBI has a shitload of explaining to do."

"As if," Duo muttered. "Fucker wouldn't give an inch. An' I tried threatening not to cooperate if they didn't bring you in on it. But I didn't wanna 'out' you—so I couldn't really tell him I was head over heels in love with you."

I smiled—the first one that came easily in weeks—and cupped his cheek in my hand. "I love you too, Angel."

He stilled, his eyes searching my face. "How—?"

"Long story—but I have it on good authority you hate that nickname," I teased.

He shrugged slightly. "Not when _you _say it," he admitted.

Mary interrupted us yet again, with a plate of food that smelled so good my stomach rumbled impatiently. "Here ya go," she said brightly, setting it down on the placemat.

"It" was a steaming plate of Duo's delicious tarragon chicken casserole, garnished with a sprig of parsley and a hot buttered roll on the side.

I started to reach for the biscuit, just to offer my stomach something plain to start with, but I hesitated, recalling her last horrid batch.

"I made 'em," Duo whispered reassuringly in my ear.

I took a big bite then, savoring the taste, while unable to keep my eyes off Duo, savoring the view.

He sat on the stool next to me while I ate, sipping at the dark beer he'd taken away when he found out how empty my stomach was, and looking alternately pleased and uneasy.

"Would you relax?" I finally blurted, pausing between bites.

He winced a little at the sharpness of my voice. "Sorry—. 'S just—I—I don't blame you if you're mad. I should've called sooner, I guess."

"I'm not mad," I said quickly. Then I quietly added, "Why didn't you?"

It came out more accusing than I'd intended.

"I was—scared. Fuckin' FBI guys Alexander stuck me with tried t'kill me, an' I thought they'd have Trowa's phone tapped—didn't even know _your_ number."

"Jesus, Duo—try a freakin' phone book—," I muttered, already starting to mop up the last of the sauce on my plate with the final piece of biscuit.

He gave a nervous chuckle. "Didn't think of that—but even if I had, I'd have been afraid to call—just in case. I was afraid to trust _anyone_."

"Who tried to kill you?" I asked, suddenly twigging to what he'd said about the FBI guys.

"One of the babysitters Alexander set me up with."

"Fuck!" I hissed. "When—?" I shook my head. "Later. I—I have to sort this all out. I'm still—I'm not sure I believe this is real."

He smiled wanly. "Me neither. Been dyin' for you to get here—afraid you might not." He'd finished his beer and set it down, rubbing a hand up and down the opposite forearm. "I'd go up to the cliffs every night around sunset, figuring that's when you'd show—if you were ever gonna."

"Sunset?"

"Yeah—like when we walked back up to the cottages that day."

I shook my head. "I was there in the afternoon. Today."

"I missed you?" he asked incredulously. "Shit, Yuy. It's a good thing you were hungry."

"You have no idea," I said, sparing him the tale of how close I came to leaving town.

"I—I just assumed you'd talk to Wufei long before you got here. He was gonna call your cell."

"My cell phone broke."

"Oh." He gave a wry snort. "Explains a lot."

"So when did _you_ talk to Chang?"

"After I heard about Khushrenada. I figured once he was dead, no one would care enough t'send someone to kill me. So I called Trowa, an' after I finally convinced him it was me—that I was really alive—he put me in touch with Wuffers."

God—he'd been alone all this time—with no one to trust—not even Trowa to talk to until just a few days ago. How had he managed? And when did he escape his captors—and how? What about the knife wound?

I caught his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Can we go somewhere to talk? Privately?"

He nodded, still looking a little apprehensive. "Hey, Mary—?"

"Yeah, yeah," she called from the kitchen doorway, where she'd been casually leaning and trying not to be obvious about listening in. "I already called Pops and he said he'd pull himself away from his game of gin rummy and come man the kitchen tonight."

"Tell him I owe him," Duo smirked.

"I'll do no such thing," she retorted. "The ol' fart needs to stay in practice! Besides, he thrives on being useful. He doesn't know it yet, but retirement's going to drive him batty inside of six months."

"We won't let it," Duo assured her, standing up and tugging at my hand.

I was busy mulling over his statement—which seemed to indicate his intention to stay in Euphoria awhile—while he grabbed a long leather coat from behind the counter, slipping it on over his braid, and then settling a baseball cap over his distinctive hair. It looked like he still knew how to downplay his appearance when the occasion called for it.

* * *

He led me out of the restaurant, across the deck, and up a flight of stairs to the upper story of a neighboring building.

"Where are we going?"

"My place."

"You have a 'place'?" I asked in surprise, suddenly beset by a million questions.

"I'm renting the upstairs of this house—from Mary an' Pops."

"Does Agent Alexander have any idea where you are?"

He turned around and smiled cheekily at me. "Naw—when I slipped away from his watchdogs a couple of weeks ago I didn't leave a forwarding address. In fact, I left 'em tied up in the tool shed"

"Tied up?"

He nodded earnestly. "With duct tape," he added proudly. "Y'see after Webster tried to kill me, I wasn't sure about his buddy, so I hadda leave 'em both."

"Jesus." Was that before or after I'd given Alexander the list?

"I talked to Alexander once after that. He called the cell phone I appropriated from his crooked agents. Tried to tell me he found out about Webster just that day; he also tried to talk me into comin' back in. As if—!" He opened the door and ushered me into a tiny kitchenette. "Bathroom's to the right, living room straight ahead and the bedroom's, well, the living room—when you fold out the couch. Ain't much—but it's home."

I shot him a wary look at his use of the word, again wondering how long he planned to stay here.

"Anyhow," he prattled on, slipping out of his coat and hat and tossing them over the back of a chair. "I played tag with a couple of guys Alexander sent to try to retrieve me—lost 'em for good just a couple of days before the jury came in."

"A couple of days—." Was _that _the call Alexander got in the hallway after I'd talked to Khushrenada? And before it came in, when he started to bring up Duo's name, was he thinking of telling me he was still alive? "Shit!" I blurted, realizing I might have found out a week earlier that Duo had survived.

"What?"

I shook my head, catching his hand and giving it a hard squeeze. "Nothing—just—I'm glad you're alive."

He gave a chuckle. "So am I. It means I'll get to feel you pound me into the mattress again."

If the words hadn't made the blood rush straight to my groin, his husky tone would have. "Jesus, Duo! Don't say things like that unless you mean 'em."

"But I do!"

I pulled on his hand to drag him close enough so I could slide an arm around him, feeling how thin he was under the loose tee shirt. "I know you want to—but it hasn't been that long since your surgery. Are you up to that kind of—activity?"

He cuddled up next to me, his warmth a welcome feeling. "I dunno—but I'm sure game to try it."

I glanced around the tiny apartment, realizing how sparsely-furnished it was—the couch, an armchair, and a couple of lamps and a coffee table were about it. I gestured back to the nearly empty kitchen. "What have you been eating? How did you pay for this place?"

He sighed, pulling away and leaning back against the door frame. "Can't we screw first an' talk later?"

I shook my head, smiling at the pout on his lips. "My curiosity needs satisfaction." I went over and sat on the edge of the table, bracing my arms on either side of me and gazing expectantly at him.

"Goddamned detective," he muttered. "Have it your way." He folded his arms across his chest. "After Alexander shuffled me off to Larry and Moe, I waited until I was pretty much healed up and starting to regain my strength. I knew Alexander was gonna have them haul my ass out of state as soon as the case was wrapped up, and I planned to take off before the verdict came in. 'Course, when I caught on to the fact that one of my babysitters was a friend of Sims, and trying to get me alone, I had to move sooner."

"What did you use for money?" I asked warily, hoping he hadn't had the balls to steal from FBI agents—even crooked ones.

"Feds can't play poker for shit," he said with a laugh. "After I fleeced 'em at five card stud, they stopped letting me play with 'em. So when Webster made his move, and I left him and his pal duct-taped together in the shed, I had some traveling money in hand. I took the cell phone, figuring that as soon as Alexander called it, he'd know something was wrong at the safe house if no one answered. So I answered—an' told him his agents were dirty and his organization sucked. Then I tossed it in a dumpster and hitched a ride with a trucker to get here. I went to The Gull's Wing for a meal, and Mary and Pops recognized me from our last visit, and all the shit on the news about that bitch Une at the courthouse." His eyes flashed with anger. "I'd really like a shot at her, 'Ro. Don't suppose that could be arranged, hm?"

I shook my head. "She's still in the mental ward of a federal prison. And if they've told her Khushrenada's dead, I imagine that's where she'll stay permanently."

"Bitch."

I smiled reluctantly, and quickly turned the conversation back to pleasanter topics. "So—you're a chef now?"

"In training."

"As if you need that!"

"Well, Pops wants me to learn the house specials—so a couple of days a week, he's going to work with me until I've got 'em all figured out." He gestured around the apartment. "He an' Mary own this building. They live downstairs, an' gave me a break on the rent—until I can find something more permanent."

"So—you want to stay here?"

He shrugged. "It's as good a place as any."

"Yes, but now that Khushrenada's dead, there's no reason you can't go back to the city—if that's what you want."

He gave me a sort of wide-eyed look, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him before. "I—don't know."

"You seem to like it here," I said carefully—trying to gauge his reaction.

He nodded. "I do. You know how much I like the ocean. An' you and I talked about, well, what we'd do after the trial—where we might go. We talked about a place like this."

"That was when you were going to have to stay in hiding while Khushrenada was in prison," I pointed out. "But with him dead, your options are wide open. You can go anywhere you want to."

He looked shyly at me from under his bangs, shifting uneasily. "Mostly I just want to be wherever you are—and having you sit way over there as if you're afraid to touch me is playin' havoc with my nerves, y'know."

I was on my feet in an instant and pulling him into my arms. "Shit—I'm sorry. I'm just—in shock—afraid I'll hurt you—or that this isn't real—." I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought that maybe I was delusional and none of this was happening. "I've—I had dreams—nightmares—."

He kissed me deeply and thoroughly, before pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes. "I'm not dead."

"Not dead," I echoed, savoring the words.

"Not dead," he mumbled into my mouth, delving in again and twining our tongues together. "Alive," he breathed against my lips, rocking his hips into mine.

"Ah—alive!" I gasped, grabbing his belt loops and holding him tightly against me. "If this is a dream—I never want to wake up."

"Me neither," he agreed, his arms tightening their hold around my waist. "So—c'n we skip the informational briefing an' get down to screwing?"

"Fuck, yes!"

I backed him up to the couch, and he fumbled to fling the cushions aside and try to pull out the folding bed. When it resisted his frantic tug, I used my brute strength to yank it open, and then unceremoniously shove him down onto it.

"Why the fuck did you fold that thing up?" I hissed against his neck. "Waste of time—."

"Didn't know—." His hands were all over me by then, pulling the jacket down off my shoulders as he rocked his hips impatiently against mine. "Hey—that's _my _jacket—."

"You just now noticed?" I scoffed, throwing it aside, and then sliding his tee shirt up to slip it off him.

As I did, I suddenly caught sight of the scar on his midsection—the livid reminder of how close he'd come to dying. It looked fresh and pink—stark against his pale skin.

"Oh, God—."

"Shhh—'s okay, love. It's okay."

I dropped my face to his chest, fighting back fresh sobs as I relived the moment I'd seen him fall.

Hands slid up through my hair, lifting my head so I was looking into tear-filled indigo eyes. "I'm fine, 'Ro. I'm fine. I'm here and I love you so goddamned much—. I'd rather die than ever hurt you like that again."

"Don't ever talk about dying!" I said harshly. "Don't even think it! I can't—. I can't ever go through that again. Next time I won't live without you—I won't!"

"You won't have to," he promised. "I won't ask that of you—okay? As long as you don't ask it of me—."

Was that what I really wanted—his permission to die if I lost him? And to give my permission for him to do the same if the situation were reversed?

I glared up through my tears. "You listen to me, Duo Maxwell. If something happens to me, I expect you to fuckin' live! You hear me?"

"Yeah—right back atcha," he whispered, his soft smile offering a very gentle rebuke.

"Deal." I leaned up to kiss the smile away, acknowledging how much each of us wanted the other to live.

And then I let my lips become reacquainted with—other parts of him.

I kissed and nibbled my way down his neck, before wrapping my lips around one dusky nipple and sliding my tongue in a teasing circle.

"Oh fuck!" he gasped, arching up from the bed. "Missed you so much!"

I'd have said I missed him, too, but my mouth was full.

So were my hands, already working at his zipper and then sliding around the back of his waistband and dipping inside to grab his ass and knead the firm flesh.

"Ah! More—," he panted, pressing up against me with his hips. "Too many clothes!"

I paused only long enough to rip off my own shirt and jeans, before divesting him of his, and then pressing our bodies back together, and fixing my lips on his other nipple.

The distracting sensation of his hard shaft in direct contact with mine, shifting and sliding as he rocked his hips, was almost enough to make me rush the journey I was taking down his body. Almost.

But I slid further down, so I was propped up on my hands and keeping a slight gap between us, my own throbbing erection against the mattress instead of him, and I dropped my face to his chest, running my tongue lightly over the scar down his belly.

"Oh—!"

The surprise in his voice turned to wonder, as I demonstrated how sensitive scar tissue can be—careful to just trace it with the lightest possible touch.

And then I kissed it gently, looking up to see his eyes shining with tears again. "T' think, I'd have never gotten to feel this again—," he breathed through a tight throat. "I want to live forever, 'Ro—just to feel you touch me. You make me want that—."

"You've got it—you've got _me—_for however long you live. If it's forever, then that's how long I'll be here." I dropped a hand to his entrance, tracing light fingers over it and making him shiver deliciously, only to realize I hadn't thought to bring anything like lube with me. Why would I? I'd thought he was dead.

"Fuck—there's no—."

"Y'check the inside pocket of my Reapers jacket?" he gasped, wriggling his hips to press himself closer to my fingers. "Used to keep some there—."

I hung over the side of the sofabed for a moment, one hand poking through the discarded clothes until I found a small tube tucked away right where he said it would be.

"And you called _me _a boy scout," I chided, coating my fingers and slipping the first one in, reaching unerringly for that spot I knew would make him yelp with pleasure and arc up off the bed.

He didn't disappoint.

Hell, he _couldn't _disappoint. He could've laid there totally relaxed and limp, and I wouldn't have been disappointed by him. I'd just have been grateful as hell he was alive and breathing.

While my fingers teased and stretched, drawing groans and hisses of sheer delight, I continued to trace lazy circles on his stomach with my tongue, until my chin bumped the moist tip of his straining erection, and I couldn't resist leaning down and taking it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip and then sucking hard and taking it in deep.

"Holy fucking Hell!" he blurted, coming so suddenly I don't think he was even prepared for it.

But I was. I'd been dreaming of tasting him again for so long, that as I swallowed I could only wonder if I'd died and gone to Heaven and was just now figuring it out.

"'Ro—!" he wailed peevishly, as I let his softening length slip from between my lips. "Y'weren't supposed to do that—I wanted it to last—!"

"It will," I promised, sliding my fingers out, and wiping the slick moisture from them onto my shaft, before climbing back up so that the head of my erection was pressed against his opening. "Didn't you say something about being fucked through a mattress?" I patted the surface next to his flushed and beautiful face. "We've barely made a dent in it."

"Oh—ooooohhh!" he gasped as I pressed myself into him, feeling the heat and tightness close around me like a vice.

"Fuck—," I hissed, closing my eyes and just _feeling _him. "You are so alive—so warm—so tight—."

"So hot for you," he groaned, already starting to recover and harden again.

He must have been desperate for this. And the idea of a desperate Duo Maxwell just about made me explode right then and there. I could feel his pulse inside him—and my pulse—as if our hearts were beating in synch.

Then he wrapped his legs up around me, wiggling his hips teasingly, and drawing an involuntary moan from my lips. "You can move, y'know."

"Oh, I know," I said, opening my eyes and gazing lovingly at his face. "I damn well _can_. But I kind of like making you beg."

His indigo eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open, which gave me the perfect opportunity to kiss him deeply, stroking with my tongue, even as I sank my cock deeper into him.

I swallowed his gasp, but then pulled back just enough so he could suck in a breath and whisper "Please—."

"What was that?"

"God, _please_," he moaned, his voice ragged and his cock once again hard and dripping. "Jesus—I don't care what y'do—anything. Anything you want—. You drive me fuckin' crazy. Just fuck me already!"

I never _could_ say "no" to him...

So I pulled out and thrust forward, and just when he relaxed into it, obviously expecting me to be slow and careful, I did it again, only faster and harder.

And even as he opened his mouth to let out a pleasure-filled oath, I did it again—picking up speed and force with each thrust.

He wanted me to fuck him through the mattress? I damn well intended to oblige him.

You'd think I'd have lost it faster than I did, having dreamed of making love to him again—of feeling him beneath me and around me and inside my soul—but I was too busy savoring all of it to focus on reaching completion. I literally wanted to stay there forever, thrusting myself into his willing heat.

With each sliding pull, the friction and fire built up to a feverish pitch. And with each driving thrust, I felt like I was plunging into an inferno.

His cries increased in volume and pitch, becoming one long wail of pleasure so intense it was overwhelming. And yet I kept pounding into him, striving for more—pushing him closer and closer to another climax—pushing _myself_—until he let out a scream that almost sounded like pain.

But when I looked down to see the expression on his face, his eyes wide—dark with lust and love and passion—shining with tears of ecstasy as he came for the second time, his hot seed exploding between our stomachs—there was no pain in them—only joy. Joy that was echoed in my own desperate cry as I, too finally fell over the edge, thrusting deep and feeling myself pour into him in wave after wave, his own euphoric spasms milking every drop from me.

I couldn't even speak afterwards; it was a miracle I could breathe. I wondered if I _had_ been, as I gasped for air, my chest heaving with the effort.

Duo was lying with his eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners. And I felt a sudden jolt of fear.

"Did I hurt you?" I managed hoarsely, reaching a trembling hand to his scarred midsection.

He opened his eyes, smiling and giving me a chiding look. "Fuck no," he gasped, apparently still trying to recover as well. "Just—totally blew me away—."

I didn't want to pull away from him, but I needed to collapse onto the mattress, so I sort of rolled us onto our sides, so we could disentangle ourselves without moving apart. "I love you, Duo," I said gravely, reaching to brush aside a strand of the chestnut hair that was plastered to his sweaty forehead.

And he put his hands on either side of my face, leaning in to place a very gentle, chaste kiss on my lips. "Love you, too, 'Ro—ever since I first laid eyes on you." His indigo eyes sparkled with mirth. "That mean you still wanna marry me?"

"Just try an' stop me," I teased, yawning as I felt the creeping lethargy that comes after intense sex.

He chuckled, snuggling up under my neck, throwing an arm across my chest, and promptly falling asleep.

And then I did, too.

* * *

I woke in a cold sweat, staring up at a dark ceiling, and I wanted to scream in frustration.

A dream? It was all a dream. Euphoria. Duo. All of it.

I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself back to sleep—back to the comfort of a dream where Duo was still alive.

"'Ro? Wassa matter, baby?"

Warm fingers brushed the hair from my damp forehead, and the body beside me shifted closer, legs twining around mine.

"You okay, love?"

My eyes shot open again. "I wasn't dreaming?"

Warm indigo eyes smiled down at me, and Duo leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips. "No, baby. I'm real. An' so are you."

"Oh, God—." I had him pulled against me in a heartbeat, showering kisses on his face, his lips, his eyes—anywhere I could reach. "Don't ever leave me!" I managed desperately between kisses.

"Never. I swear t'God. Never," he murmured back. "I'm so sorry love—."

"Don't be—not your fault," I assured him.

"Still—seeing you like this—I feel like it is."

"No. I know you didn't have a choice," I said, gradually regaining control. "I just—I'm still having trouble believing—that you're alive, that you're here." I stroked my hand down his arm, snaking it around his waist, reveling in the feel of his skin, and his _realness_. And although I'd exhausted myself making love to him the previous night, my body was telling me it hadn't had enough yet. "I'm sure the nightmares will stop—once my mind adjusts to—this." I said that last bit pulling him closer so he could feel the effect his nearness was having on me.

"Ohhh," he groaned softly, closing his eyes and smiling blissfully. "If it soothes away the bad dreams, lover, you go right ahead and 'adjust' anything you want to."

"You don't need any adjustment at all," I assured him. "You are perfect just the way you are—angel or demon, it doesn't much matter to me—you're _mine_."

"Forever," he agreed readily.

"Forever."


	69. Where the Heart Is

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: I'm stopping at 69 chapters, since that's Duo and Trowa's favorite number in this fic, and it seemed appropriate. Plus, the "witness protection" has ended, and now it's on to the "happily ever after." However, so often in this fic, it would have been nice to be able to show you Duo's point of view…so I have started a companion fic I'm calling "Diary of a Protected Witness." It'll be short, choppy segments of Duo's point of view, and you'll need to know the plot of "Witness" in order to really know the details of what's going on, I think. I'm not going to re-hash the whole story again. I just wanted to post glimpses of Duo's perspective on moments in the story. So, watch for it?

WITNESS PROTECTION

Chapter Sixty Nine: Where the Heart Is

"Quat and Tro' are here!" Duo blurted, dashing from the kitchen towards the front door, his braid flying out behind him.

I followed at a more sensible rate of speed, reaching the front hallway in time to see him fling open the door and launch himself into Trowa's arms.

"God, I've missed you guys!"

Trowa grinned at me over Duo's shoulder, and winked at my weary smile. "What? Not jealous any more, Yuy?" he teased.

I shook my head and crossed my arms, smiling smugly. "Y'know what, Barton? I'm so grateful he's alive, that I've got no room at all for jealousy."

Duo turned a brilliant smile my way. "I love you too, 'Ro," he said easily, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He disentangled himself from his former lover and hugged Quatre every bit as enthusiastically. "Aw, Quat—I'm so glad you could make it!"

Quatre's eyes were suspiciously bright. "I've been counting the days, Duo. It's wonderful to see you healthy again—and likely to stay that way now that Khushrenada's gone and the syndicate is a thing of the past."

Duo grinned smugly. "Yeah—the best part is that Zechs was the one who compiled the information that brought 'em down! Nobody blames Heero an' me at all!"

"Not that many people even know you're alive, let alone living a quiet life in a seaside cottage with an ex-cop," Trowa pointed out.

"Who'da thought?" Duo chuckled. He returned to my side, slipping an arm around my waist and tucking his head against my shoulder.

"I would have," Quatre asserted, looking terribly smug. "The minute I saw you two in that interrogation room—I knew there was a spark there."

I snorted at that. "Yeah—kind of like a lit match and gasoline."

Duo melted against me, giving a low growl. "Hot stuff, Yuy."

"That you are," I agreed readily.

"Flatterer!" He pulled away and we helped Quatre and Trowa bring in their luggage, and the insanely expensive bottle of wine the lawyer brought as a gift, since they were going to be spending the weekend with us.

It was Thanksgiving Day—and the first time our friends were seeing Duo since that awful scene in the courthouse. We'd spoken on the phone, of course, but only briefly.

We'd been in Euphoria for just over two months, Duo and I. Once I had him back in my arms, there was no way I was going to let him out of my sight—ever. So as soon as we came up for air, after a couple of days of eating and making love and sleeping, and pretty much repeating that pattern non-stop with an occasional shower thrown in, we had some serious decision-making to do.

He didn't want to go back to the city in any hurry, for a lot of reasons. At the top of the list was Agent Alexander, who still had an APB out on him—trying to retrieve "the one that got away."

Not that he needed any testimony from Duo, but it was an embarrassment having a protected witness get attacked by his keeper and then leave the man tied up with his partner—naked.

Yeah, Duo hadn't mentioned that right off the bat. Took him a couple of days to get around to telling me just how pissed he'd been at the guy who'd tried to strangle him with a garden hose.

He'd been pissed enough to strip the guy right down to his birthday suit and duct tape him to his equally naked partner—face to face—tightly.

I'd laughed my ass off when he told me. Seriously. It was the fuckin' funniest thing I'd ever heard! Two straight guys—who'd been openly contemptuous of Duo's blatant admission of homosexuality—taped together cheek to cheek and dick to dick.

I still chuckled when I thought about it.

Alexander had probably burst a blood vessel when he found them like that. Apparently that was where he'd rushed off to the day I gave him the FBI black list. He'd called to talk to the one agent with Duo who was _not _on the list, only to have Duo answer the cell phone and tell him he had a fucked-up organization and he should go retrieve his "heads-up-their-asses goons" before "they got hard for each other and had an inter-office romance."

Duo fuckin' cracked me up sometimes! Did I mention how much I loved him?

At any rate, we'd both decided we owed Alexander nothing. Wait—scratch that—I owed him another big, fat punch in the jaw, which I delivered when I went in a couple of weeks later to drop off my resignation to Captain Po.

As it turned out, initially she had not been included in Alexander's little plot. When she'd showed me those fake autopsy pictures, she believed they were real—which was the only thing that saved her from getting the same treatment as the FBI agent. I was not above hitting a woman, if I felt she deserved it.

But Alexander only brought Captain Po "into the fold" after Trant was killed, since by then he was considering putting Duo back in the care of our people. He never got the chance, only because Duo took off before he could proceed.

I _was_ plenty pissed that the Captain hadn't see fit to share with me once she was in on the secret. I mean, she'd guessed there was more than a professional relationship between Duo and me. She had to know his absence was sheer torture. But when I confronted her with that fact, she cited a promise of confidentiality she'd made to Alexander, as well as the concern that if she told me Duo was alive and then he ended up dead at the hands of a rogue agent, I'd have suffered all the more.

Yeah, I thought that was bullshit, too, and I told her so. I also told her my resignation had nothing to do with the whole incident; I merely wanted—correction, _needed_—to be wherever Duo was.

She'd asked where that was, and I'd laughed in her face and told her there was no way in Hell I was going to reveal our location so she could run to Alexander with it. And then I'd left. I wasn't followed, either, or they'd have found a couple more guys duct-taped together.

I really liked the way Duo thought.

* * *

"Wow—this place is lovely!" Quatre said, as Duo took his coat and Trowa's and hung them in the closet. "Look at the view out the picture window!"

Trowa slipped an arm around his lover as they walked over to the aforementioned window and took in the view of the ocean. "It's great, Quat," he said agreeably. "Y'want something like this for us?"

Quatre looked up at the dancer in surprise. "Does that mean you decided to say 'yes' to moving in together?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he said quietly.

"Aw—Kodak moment!" Duo crooned, throwing an arm around each man's shoulders and pulling them into a group hug. "You two are really gonna shack up?"

"Duo!" chided Quatre.

"Well what else would ya call it?" shrugged my lover. "Y'can't get married—so you've just got to 'live in sin,' like 'Ro an' me."

"But Angel—," Trowa began teasingly.

"Don't you call me that!" Duo huffed, his glance sliding over to me, and then a smirk settling on his perfect lips. "It's reserved," he added loftily.

"Ah. I see," replied his friend. "Does that mean he can't call you Shini?"

"I can call him anything I like," I said smugly, walking over to peel him off of our friends. "Seeing as he's mine."

"Oh _yeah_. You _own _my ass," Duo asserted.

"The whole package," I reminded him.

He gave a throaty chuckle, rubbing his "package" against my thigh. "You got it, lover."

"Jeeze—get a room—," Trowa chided.

"Oh—speaking of that!" Duo chirped, doing a quick one-eighty. "Lemme show ya where you an' Kitty-Quat will be humpin' each other for the weekend." He grabbed Trowa's hand and dragged him off towards the stairs to take him up to the guest room we'd prepared.

Quatre looked at me with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. "Thank God he hasn't changed."

"Did you think he would?"

"I—wasn't sure. He's been through so much. I was afraid he'd be less—."

"—alive?" I finished for him. "Nope. If anything, he's more alive than ever—like he's making up for lost time." I gave a little shrug. "He knows he got lucky—got a second chance—and he's not wasting a minute of it. You should see all the sketches—and the new meals—. He's even got a little garden out back. He grows herbs."

Quatre grinned wickedly. "Legal ones?"

I shifted my weight. "Mostly."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow, stepping back to look at me in shock. "You are _not _serious!"

"Well, I'm no botanist—but there's a suspicious-looking patch of some tall, leafy things in one corner," I shrugged. We shared a mischievous look. "Could I plead ignorance, counselor?"

"Insanity, maybe," he smirked back.

"C'mon upstairs before they decide to try out the bed," I suggested, ushering him towards the stairs.

I was joking—completely joking. I trusted Duo—heart and soul.

But I also knew he'd do almost anything just for the shock value.

We found him flinging the curtains wide, and showing Trowa how he could see the entire bay and out beyond it to the open ocean.

"—and from the balcony, you can look out over the garden and see down to the beach." He gave a teasing leer. "Most of the beach—but there's plenty of private spots—you can sunbathe totally nude an' no one can see—."

Trowa threw his head back and laughed—a rare sight indeed. "Shit, Duo—y'think I care if anyone sees? I've shown it to anyone who'd pay the cover charge, remember?"

Duo laughed with him, reaching to tuck back a strand of chestnut hair that had escaped his braid. And I couldn't keep from walking over and running my fingers through the loose wisps and smoothing a few more back.

"C'mon Angel," I whispered. "Let's show them the rest of the house."

_The rest of the house._ Yeah, it was a good-sized place, with a huge master bedroom and four roomy ones for guests; the previous owners had run a bed and breakfast there. We also had a Jacuzzi out on the back deck—aw, c'mon; did you think Duo wasn't going to have his precious hot tub after the memories from the lake house? And we had a wrap-around porch on the other three sides of the house. There were several acres of land, and most of the nearby property belonged to some state park, which prevented development, as well as traffic.

There were no moose, though. Not a one—at least not that we'd seen—yet. But wild blueberries grew all over some of the nearby hills, and we'd actually glimpsed a bear one time—from our back deck—with binoculars. And that was as close as either of us ever wanted to get.

* * *

We'd completed the grand tour of the upstairs, and had no sooner gotten back downstairs when a knock on the door heralded the arrival of our other two guests.

"It's Wu-baby!" Duo crowed triumphantly, dashing past me to fling open the door. "Wuffers! Cath!"

Wufei and Catherine stood on the doorstep, the former with suitcases in hand, and the latter with a huge flower arrangement.

"Come in—come in!" Duo waved them both inside, taking one of the bags and passing it to me, and then holding out his arms. "Give us a hug, you Oriental Adonis!"

With a long-suffering sigh, Wufei set down the second bag, and allowed Duo to wrap him in a crushing bear-hug. "Good to see you alive, Maxwell—honestly," he gasped.

"You too," said my lover, pulling back and winking cheekily. He turned to Catherine, eyes widening at the sight of the blossoms. "What's all that, Cath?"

She craned her head around the flowers to smile brightly at him. "Not from us," she explained with a little shrug. "Captain Po wanted to send her regards—and since we refused to give away the address—."

I grabbed the arrangement at once, stalking into the dining room and placing it on the table, before dashing upstairs for my surveillance scanner.

Ignoring wide-eyed stares and disbelieving smiles, I came back down and spent several minutes checking for bugs, tracking devices, or monitors of any kind.

"'Ro? I don't think there's a bomb tucked into the begonias," Duo whispered in my ear.

I gave him a sidelong glare. "I'm taking no chances," I said evenly. "Captain Po and Agent Alexander are far too chummy to be trusted—."

"He's got bigger fish to fry," Duo reminded me. "He's lost interest."

"Bigger fish indeed," Wufei smirked, walking over to shake my hand, when he could pull my attention away from debugging the flowers.

I've gotta say here, aside from one tiny aphid, there were no bugs at all—heh, heh. (God, Duo had rubbed off on me, hadn't he? But then I'd rubbed off on him—and in him, if you catch my drift.)

At any rate, I took my former partner's hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "Good to see you, Chang."

"You too—and as I started to say—Alexander's got himself neck-deep in work these days. Since he brought down Oz, they've put him in charge of an organized crime task force. And he's been trying to recruit Captain Po as his second-in-command."

"Really?" Duo crooned dangerously. "Well maybe they _are_ two little peas in a pod."

Catherine slipped up to give Duo a hug then, and a big, wet kiss on the cheek. "Bygones," she urged. "The Captain sent you some nice flowers and a card apologizing for all she put Heero through. So be the bigger man and accept her attempt at reconciliation."

My lover snorted, his eyes narrowing. "She fuckin' showed Heero fake autopsy pictures, Cath. I'm not at all sure I'll ever forgive that."

"Not even if she made a sizable contribution to your favorite orphanage?" Wufei asked, holding out another envelope, with a return address of the Maxwell Church Orphanage. "Here's the thank-you Father Maxwell sent her for the donation, telling her what sorts of things it will provide for the kids, and commending her generosity. She asked me to pass it along to you, so you can see it for yourself."

Duo accepted the envelope, sliding the letter out and reading for a moment. "Whoa. Generous indeed!" he exclaimed. He looked at me almost accusingly. "How much they payin' cops these days, 'Ro? She laid a lotta dough on the old homestead, y'know."

I took the letter he held out, my own eyes widening at the figure mentioned in the text. "So she did," I agreed. I looked up at him with a conspiratorial smile. "It won't get her invited to Christmas dinner—but maybe we can send her a card."

"Without a return address!" he cautioned.

"Of course."

As a matter of fact, the only people from our old lives that knew our exact location were Wufei, Trowa, Quatre and Catherine. A few others, such as Father Maxwell, had been told Duo was alive after all—but had not been advised of our whereabouts. We were still uneasy about detection, and jealousy guarding our privacy. After all Duo had endured, I thought the least he deserved was a quiet, undisturbed sanctuary from the chaos he'd known before.

Besides, since I didn't actually get to hold Khushrenada's severed head in my hands, I wasn't willing to discount the distant possibility that he'd somehow survived five direct hits to his heart (assuming he had one), and was in witness relocation himself, helping Alexander dismantle Oz, in return for immunity from prosecution. Hey, after all we'd been through, I trusted no one! And even though Wufei had assured me he personally attended the funeral and viewed the body in the open casket, I was still keeping an open mind, _and_ a paranoid attitude.

Of course, Chang had eased many of my fears by tracking down the bastard who'd trashed my apartment and run him and Catherine off the road. He'd sort of made it a personal crusade—and worked at it day and night until he nabbed the dumb prick and sent him to the hospital. The guy supposedly resisted arrest; either that, or my tendency to play rough with suspects had rubbed off on my partner.

At any rate, the guy had been apprehended, and immediately turned State's evidence and spilled his guts—giving the police names of both accomplices and clients. His only condition was that they keep "that crazy Chink cop" the hell away from him.

I was proud of Chang.

In other news, Trowa and Quatre had sort of taken over Duo's mentoring of the orphans—bringing them on circus outings and assuring them a place at upcoming Winner-sponsored summer camps. We'd decided that perhaps by the next summer, Duo could make an appearance to reconnect with the kids he'd been so fond of—but not until we were sure every last threat had been eliminated.

Speaking of threats—Une was no longer one, having finally succeeded in her third suicide attempt, after leaving a letter saying that she had to "be with Treize once again." She was not missed.

Relena—well, she had ended up in the priciest sanitarium on the East Coast. Her father pulled some strings and lined up a veritable chorus of doctors who proclaimed her unbalanced and in need of long-term psychiatric care. It had cost him his job—as the mayor didn't appreciate the appearance of favoritism. And Captain Po was actually put in as the acting Chief, until a new one could be selected.

I'd thought they might offer her the position permanently, but since Chang just told us that Alexander was trying to recruit her, I had no idea where she'd eventually end up. Frankly, I didn't care.

I was perfectly happy as an assistant to the local constable in Euphoria. In return for his promise of anonymity, I'd agreed to replace the old-timer who retired to join in Pops' daily games of gin rummy. My limited duties consisted mostly of writing parking tickets and helping little old ladies get their cats out of trees. Or at least that's what it felt like, compared to working vice and homicide for the past few years.

I took the job mostly for Duo—who went into a panic when he found out I was considering looking for one in a police department a half an hour away. His fear of losing me was very nearly as strong as my fear of losing him. And neither one of us could really handle being apart for any more time per day than was absolutely necessary.

Of course, with the money Zechs had left to Duo, which Quatre had skillfully kept off the FBI radar, neither of us really needed to work. After buying our house, and sending Father Maxwell a chunk that made Captain Po's donation look puny, we'd put most of the rest of the money into savings and long-term cds, salting it away for emergencies. We could have lived very comfortably on the interest.

But Duo loved cooking, and so he still worked at The Gull's Wing—and had even managed to teach Mary not to totally destroy whatever she attempted in the kitchen. He also loved his sketching, and gardening—which were so totally out of character for the brassy young punk I'd first taken him for, that it still made me shake my head in wonder.

I'd bought an antique car that I was restoring on weekends, in the big attached garage, and was working three days a week with the local constabulary, which provided me a diversion, and Duo and me a bit of extra income.

* * *

"So—I've gotta check on the turkey," Duo announced, giving Wufei and Catherine a little nudge in my direction. "Show the happy couple the estate, would ya, love?"

I nodded, eagerly helping our newest guests out of their coats, and then walking them through the house. Quatre and Trowa tagged along to complete their tour as well.

"It's really lovely here," Catherine spoke up, as we peered out the French doors at the steaming hot tub. She gave me a sly sideways look. "Glad I brought my bathing suit."

"Duo never bothers with one," I blurted before my brain caught up to my mouth.

Wufei gave me a horrified look, and then turned it on his fiancée. "You will _not _go into that hot tub with that naked—. With Duo!"

"I, uhm…" I cleared my throat nervously. "I'm sure we can convince him to behave—_and _to wear a suit."

"What've I gotta dress up in a suit for?" Duo asked, walking out of the kitchen with his face damp from the heat and steam of the oven—those little chestnut wisps curling around his cheeks.

"Not _that _kind of suit! In the hot tub, Maxwell!" Wufei said sternly. "I won't have Catherine in there with you—_nude_!"

Duo smiled easily, not taking offense at all. "Fuck it, Chang, y'think I'm a fool? Between her knives, Trowa's talent with whips, and your freakin' martial arts—y'think I'm gonna mess with Cathy? I've got too much to live for."

He slipped an arm around my waist and leaned up to kiss me, his lips still warm from the heat in the kitchen. "Come help me haul that big-assed turkey out of the oven?"

"Sure."

We left our guests to get comfortable in the living room, and I helped Duo take the turkey from the oven and drain the juice so he could make gravy.

"Hey—can you open the wine Quat brought? He said it needed to 'breathe.'" Duo chuckled after he said it, and shook his head. "Haven't heard uptown talk like that since Zechsy and I were an item."

"Miss it?" I teased, a tiny trace of insecurity still nagging me from time to time.

"Fuck, no," came the quick, decisive reply. "Told ya before, 'Ro. You _are _the guy for me—not to mention the best time I've ever had. No regrets, love. Not a one."

He didn't see me smile and surreptitiously run a hand across my eyes before he turned and shoved a bowl of mashed potatoes into my hands. "Put that on the table, please?"

"For you—anything."

He leered appreciatively. "Later."

We were busy for a bit, putting the final touches on the meal and getting it laid out on the table, and then while Duo ran to comb his hair and put on shirt that wasn't spattered with flour and dotted with droplets of gravy, I called everyone into the dining room.

When my lover returned moments later, and slid into his seat beside me, he was positively beaming with happiness.

"Okay, guys—I get to go first," he said without preamble, picking up the glass of wine I'd poured for him. "It's Thanksgiving—and Father Maxwell used to make all us kids tell everyone at the table something we were thankful for—something specifically about that person. So—here goes."

He fixed his gaze on Catherine, who blushed before he even started. "I'm thankful, Cathy, that you are so smart and pretty and talented that even a picky guy like Wufei couldn't resist your charms. You an' he deserve all the happiness in the world." He gave a cheeky wink. "I'm also thankful you can throw knives well enough to hit a bull's eye from forty yards—or an assassin's eye."

"Oh, gross!" she teased, waving a knife menacingly. "Not over supper, Duo!"

"Wufei—," Duo continued, undaunted. "I'm grateful that you are so damned honorable that even when you hated my guts, you would've died for me. Your sense of duty and obligation are just—scary, man."

"Quat," he went on warmly, gesturing to the lawyer with his glass. "Thanks for being the smartest lawyer ever—pushing me to cooperate with the cops—giving up your nice houses and cars to keep me safe. I'll never be able to repay you—an' I mean literally _never_. On top of all that, you gave me your friendship. In return, I'm giving you the greatest guy on Earth—next to Heero, that is."

He winked at me, and looked over at Trowa. "Tro'—I can't even list all you've done for me, man. You've been a lover, a friend, a brother, a teacher—shit—you were just my _rock_, y'know? I can't ever repay you for all that, except by keeping you as my best friend, and maybe by sharing some of what I grew in the garden this summer—."

"Duo—," I cautioned with a stern glare.

He gave me his most impish look. "Herbs, lover. Tro' just _loves_ oregano—."

"Right," I growled.

"As for _you_," Duo smirked at me. "I gotta say I'm thankful you've got _the_ biggest—."

"Duo! Lady present!" Chang barked out sharply—dangerously.

"—heart," Duo finished, giving my former partner a perfectly wicked grin. "'Ro's got the biggest heart and it's all mine. An' I'm so thankful for that, I could just bust."

He got the laugh he was going for, and then he squeezed my hand. "Okay…the way the rest of this works…'Ro has to say something nice about Quatre. Something he admires. And then Quat does it for Tro', and, and it goes 'round the table like that." He gave Wufei a sly smile. "Last one's Wuffers, who has to wrack his brains and find something about _me _he's thankful for."

"I'm thankful you said 'heart,'" Wufei offered with an innocent look. "Isn't that enough?"

"Nope." Duo nudged me in the shoulder. "Go on, 'Ro. Say something nice about Quatre."

"Nothing like giving me a challenge," I teased. "Compliment a lawyer? Jeeze, Duo—why not just make it something impossible?"

"'Ro." He actually looked sternly at me, and that alone was almost enough to crack me up.

"Okay. Sheesh." I fixed a warm look on Winner. "I'm thankful I got to find out there's much more to you than just a sharp mind and killer instincts," I said playfully. "There's a very warm, caring person under that professional exterior, and I'm thankful for all you did for Duo."

Quatre blushed and ducked his head, looking more like a flustered teen than a polished lawyer. But he smiled his thanks and then turned to Trowa. "I'm thankful for getting to know you better, and finding that you are a sweet, sensitive guy, with a great sense of humor and the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen."

And I thought _Quatre_ blushed? Trowa went from normal to crimson in two seconds flat.

He covered his embarrassment by turning his attention to Catherine. "I'm grateful that you are safe," he said firmly. "When I heard all that happened at that amusement park, I felt awful about getting you involved, and I'm just thankful you're okay, and that you're happier than I've seen you in years."

He leaned across to give his friend a kiss on the cheek and everyone gave a collective "Awwww—."

Catherine's eyes danced as she looked at Wufei. "I'm thankful you've got the biggest—."

"Woman!"

"—intellect I've ever encountered in one of the male species. You are intelligent and articulate, and at the same time loving and kind. I'm glad I got mixed up in this whole crazy mess, since it brought you to me."

My former partner was almost as flustered as Trowa had been, but blinked a few times and pulled himself together. Then he looked slyly at Duo. "I could say so many things, Maxwell..."

Duo eyed him warily. "I'm sure you could."

"But I'm just thankful you are alive, and that you helped me learn that people are far more than they appear on the surface, and that being judgmental only prevents you from finding the treasures inside others. I learned many valuable lessons from you, Duo, and I'm glad I can call you my friend."

He surprised us all by standing up and pulling Duo into a firm hug.

"Way to upstage everyone," Duo teased, but I noticed he brushed at one cheek as he pulled away. "Okay, then." He raised his glass. "Now we get to have a toast to us!"

We all complied, happy to acknowledge the absolute joy we were experiencing in each other's company.

And then we dug into our Thanksgiving meal, passing around potatoes and gravy, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and all the usual side dishes—all made with Duo's personal touch, and hopefully only the legal herbs he'd grown.

* * *

"So when's the big day, Wuffers?" Duo asked between bites.

Chang rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "Catherine and I thought a summer wedding might be nice—_next _summer—perhaps near the ocean?"

Duo's eyes widened. "Euphoria would be perfect," he suggested quickly. "There's the beach, and the cliffs…lots of nice dress shops…"

Catherine smirked and Wufei got a positively wicked gleam in his eyes. "Funny you should mention that. We were thinking, since Heero's already agreed to be my best man, that you'd make a lovely maid of honor—."

At Duo's horrified gape, we all pretty much lost it, laughing so hard it's a wonder we didn't hurt ourselves or choke to death. And eventually, even my lover joined in.

"Okay, 'Fei—I guess I had _that _coming."

Wufei gave a mock-innocent look. "But I _did _so love seeing you in stockings—."

Duo glared and then turned his charming, impish grin on Catherine. "So, sweet cheeks, you want me to jump out of a cake at your bachelorette party? Or is a plain old striptease more the ticket for you an' your gal pals?"

She giggled, while I glared. "Duo—you are _not _stripping for a bunch of drooling women!"

He pouted at me. "But 'Ro—I'm _good _at it. Think of all my talent going to waste—."

"It's not," I assured him. "You can strip for me any time you like. _Just _me."

"But you've _seen _it all!"

"Doesn't mean I don't still enjoy the view," I snarled back.

Trowa grinned widely. "That reminds me—I've got something for Duo." He stood and trotted up the stairs, leaving us gazing curiously after him.

But Quatre picked up the thread of conversation, by asking more about Wufei and Catherine's wedding plans. As it turned out, the girl was planning on giving up her circus career to move in with Chang right after the wedding. And they were already talking about finding a house with a yard for kids.

Kids! I was just floored by that. Much as my partner had talked about wanting a wife and family some day, I just hadn't imagined it happening so soon—or ever. It was all pretty overwhelming, especially when Duo and I weren't even sure we were responsible enough for a pet.

But then, Chang was definitely the responsible type, and I could imagine Catherine being a very capable mother. I pitied the person who ever even considered abducting a child of hers.

A few minutes after dashing off, Trowa returned with a package wrapped in red foil with a big golden bow.

"Wow." Duo accepted the box rather warily, eyeing his former lover. "What's the occasion?"

"Consider it a gift for hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year," Quatre spoke up, a devilish twinkle in his blue eyes.

"But then it should be for 'Ro, too," Duo pointed out. Before I could say that having him was the greatest gift of all, Trowa cut me off.

"Oh, it _is _for him, Shini. It is."

That brought a curious gleam to my lover's eyes and he deftly unwrapped the box, setting aside the lid and lifting out a dark garment.

"Oh, holy Hell," I muttered under my breath, as Duo held up the priest outfit from his stripping days.

"Hey! My costume!" Duo crowed happily, grinning at his former dance partner. "Awesome. I thought someone at The Jungle would've nabbed it right off."

"Nope. Ms. Noin wouldn't let anyone else perform in it," Trowa chuckled. "She said it was sacrilegious."

Wufei looked confused. "Did she mean the outfit was sacrilege—or that allowing anyone other than Duo to use it was?"

Trowa shrugged. "She never quite said—but I notice she's still got the pictures on the wall behind her desk of Duo in that getup."

I glared heatedly at him. "But Duo doesn't work there any more. Why's she keeping his pictures?"

Trowa just gave me a "well, duh" look, and shook his head.

Duo leered happily at me over the fringed shirt. "I'll show ya why later, love," he promised. He tucked it back into the box then, giving a wink and a "thanks" to his former dance partner before resuming his meal.

"Since we're kind of on the subject of careers, did Trowa mention he's going to start taking some classes in the spring?" Quatre spoke up.

His lover looked a bit embarrassed, especially when Duo turned a startled gaze his way. "_Are_ you?"

"Yeah," came a rather shy response. "Thought I'd study to be a counselor. I like working with the kids—an' Father Maxwell thought I'd be good at counseling teens."

Duo smirked at his former lover. "He musta figured if you could straighten me out, you could work wonders with anyone—."

"What I'd really like," Trowa confessed, "is to work with kids and animals. They've got therapy dogs that go into nursing homes and stuff—so I'm betting the same approach would work with kids. Teach 'em about caring for animals, and they'll learn responsibility as well as have a lot of fun."

Quatre cast a perfectly adoring look at Trowa, while addressing Duo. "I think he's onto something with that, and I know he's smart enough to get certified as a counselor."

"Hell, yeah. Tro's smart as a whip," Duo asserted. He smiled warmly at the stripper. "You'll be great."

"Hope so," Trowa mumbled, busying himself with his meal while he blushed under the scrutiny.

I just laughed and shook my head, wondering how a guy could take off his clothes on stage, and yet get so flustered at the attention of a few friends. Go figure.

"Ah—speaking of animals," Duo said to Trowa while sliding a sidelong glance at Wufei. "Heero and I wondered if you've got any llamas for adoption at the circus. This place kind of needs something, y'know?"

"Hey! We talked about a dog!" I said quickly.

"Yeah, but 'Ro—llamas make good watchdogs," my lover insisted, still looking for a reaction. "Supposedly they can even scare off coyotes—or bears." He finally looked squarely at Chang. "And they've got excellent aim, right 'Fei?"

"So do I," said my partner, not missing a beat. "You might want to keep that in mind."

Duo eyed him warily, apparently not sure whether he was referring to his aim with a firearm, or perhaps his own ability to spit. "Grouch," he finally mumbled, smirking into his glass as he finished his wine.

Trowa wisely remained silent on the topic, but Catherine piped up with "I'll ask around for you, Duo." She looked over at Wufei, flashing a charming smile. "Unless you'd rather I keep one for us?"

"No. We agreed on a cat," Chang replied firmly.

The meal passed quickly, as we caught up on each other's lives a bit more—finding out that Quatre had been able to trace a cash transaction from the Schbeiker girl to Tsubarov and had the vile man facing a review board and potential disbarment. Noventa was handling the details, of course, and no doubt loving every minute of it.

All in all—we pretty much had everything to be thankful for—a definite high point in all our lives.

* * *

And after our wonderful meal, with all the trimmings, and the best company we could have wanted, everyone pitched in with the cleanup, despite Duo's and my best efforts to convince them guests weren't supposed to work.

We were almost finished, when I noticed Duo drop his drying towel and pull Wufei off to one side, and I casually slowed my scrubbing efforts, wondering what he was up to.

"—one room or two?" he was saying in a very discreet undertone.

Shit. That clever little brat! We'd discussed whether Wufei and Catherine would share a room, considering my partner's archaic sensibilities when it came to women and chivalry. But I'd honestly expected Duo to just blurt out the question.

His tact took me by surprise.

"Maxwell—!"

"—twenty-first century, 'Fei. No one will make any assumptions _or _judgments."

"—and I'll ask her. But you keep out of it—."

"Scout's honor."

Wufei sauntered over to Catherine to discuss the rooming arrangements privately, and I smiled as Duo sidled up to me.

"That was surprisingly—tactful," I murmured, leaning to nuzzle his ear.

"Well I didn't want Chang to eviscerate me, love. Just wanted to let him know there are two guest rooms available—but that if they're comfortable sharing, considering they're freakin' engaged—I'd make it a point not to tease."

"You are a sensitive and gracious host," I told him frankly, pulling him into a hug.

"You must be a good teacher."

I snorted at that. "I've been an anti-social, reclusive bachelor my whole life, Duo. I don't know how I could possibly have taught you anything about human interaction."

Those gleaming indigo eyes threw me a lustful glance. "Oh, baby—you wanna 'interact?' Just say when."

I gave him a teasing shove. "We've got guests to take care of first. I still have to put extra towels in the guest bathrooms."

"Meet you in the bedroom?" He leaned in for a quick, hungry kiss.

"Deal."

I headed off to complete my chores, wondering if later we could indulge in a little Thanksgiving celebration of our own, without disturbing our guests. Duo _did_ tend to be a bit vocal in bed—but I could try muffling the noise with kisses—and if they overheard a bit, well, they had to _know _Duo was irresistible, so it would probably not come as a surprise—.

Hey—I already said I wasn't a particularly good host!

At any rate, I'd gone to the linen closet and grabbed the armload of towels, taking one batch to each guest room, and was just finishing up when I heard footsteps on the stairs and Duo's low, sensuous voice in the hallway.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, really—but as I've said before, I was cursed with keen ears.

"…sorry about the shit that Alexander pulled…"

Ah—Duo was still apologizing to _all _of us for the trauma we'd endured—from the hospital scene, to the funeral, to the protracted game of deception. He'd tried to take the blame for Alexander's cruel hoax.

"You said that before, Shini. It's really okay," I heard Trowa respond.

"No, it's not. If you saw the way Heero was when he got here—. He was so—raw."

"Should've seen him when Po came out into the waiting room and said you didn't make it."

I heard a choked cry, and then Trowa's voice murmuring soothingly. "No, babe. Not your fault. Jesus, you were fuckin' unconscious on an operating table when all that happened."

Was Duo crying?

"…love him so much, Tro'. And put him through Hell…"

"He chose it, love. He chose _you_." There was a pause. "And you chose him."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"I'm glad it worked out—that you're happy with him. You're a special guy, y'know, and you deserve the very best."

"I have it—the best love anyone could have." There was a pause and I heard warmth in his voice as he spoke again. "The best friend, too, y'know. You've always been there for me, Tro', and no matter how much I love Heero, you'll still be my best friend—always."

"That's good." There was a funny little pause, and a slight shift in Trowa's tone when he spoke again. "I hate t'say it, Duo. And don't take this the wrong way, but I always felt kind of left out around you an' Zechs. I know you tried to include me—but it was pretty obvious I'd have lost you to him, if it went on much longer."

"Aw—no—."

"Yes," came the firm reply. "He wanted you all to himself, Shini—didn't want to share you with anyone—even your friends."

"He was learning, Tro'. Really, he was. Like he said in his letter, he knew he couldn't stop me from helping at the orphanage. He knew where my priorities were. And he also knew I'd hang out with you when I damned well felt like it—."

"But he didn't like it. He didn't really like _me_. Or _trust _me."

Duo hesitated, and when he spoke, he sounded defensive. "So maybe he was a little jealous. Isn't that natural? Heero was, too."

"But Heero got over it. He figured out that I care as much about you as he does. And he's secure enough to know that my love for you is pure friendship—that your heart is all his, in spite of what you an' I shared and what we still have."

"Yeah—he is. And he should be. God, Tro'—I've never wanted anyone the way I want him—never loved anyone like that before." Duo blew out a huff of breath. "It's so fuckin' intense sometimes it scares me."

There was a soft, understanding chuckle. "I know what you mean. I feel that way about Quatre, too. Like I don't deserve someone so—amazing. Not that _you _aren't amazing—but then, maybe I didn't feel like I deserved you either."

"Shit, Tro', it was the other way around. You got me off the drugs—helped me find work. You did so much more for me than I could ever do for you—."

"You underestimate yourself, love. If you hadn't shared a bed with me, and an unconditional friendship—I'd never have had the confidence to approach someone like Quatre. No matter how much I wanted him the first time we met, I'd have held back if I didn't look at you and think to myself that if a smart, gorgeous guy like you wanted me, I must have something to offer."

"Aw, Trowa—you've got _so _much going for you—!"

"And you proved it to me. You made me secure enough that when the time came, I dared to think I was worthy of a hotshot lawyer like Quat."

"And you are," came a third voice, as Winner joined the other two in the hallway. "Don't ever think otherwise—because I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's undeserving here. You're a smart, sexy, desirable man, Trowa Barton."

Duo laughed then, probably at the puppy eyes the other two were exchanging. "Fuck—you're worse than Cathy and 'Fei! I'm goin' downstairs before the sap and sweetness kill me—gonna need a freakin' dentist, anyway—."

"Duo!" Trowa's voice must have stopped him at the top of the stairs. "I hate to say I'm glad Zechs died. But—I always knew you could do better. And you did."

"So you approve?"

"I've approved since our first night at the lake house. I saw the way you looked at him—and the way he looked at you—and I knew he'd die for you, or kill for you—he'd do anything for you."

"All he's gotta do is live," came the quick response. "With me. Forever."

Shit—if hearing _that_ didn't bring a rush of warmth to my heart! I was starting to think Duo had a bit of poet in him, too.

I heard footsteps patter off down the stairs and made it a point to make noise, closing the door to the linen closet rather more loudly than was necessary, and then rounding the corner to where Quatre and Trowa were still making eyes at one another.

"Hey lovebirds," I teased.

"Eavesdropping again?" Quatre asked with uncanny accuracy.

"Still calling the kettle black?" I joked back.

He grinned unrepentantly. "Couldn't help but hear them as I came up the stairs. What's your excuse?"

I hefted the couple of towels I still held. "I was just coming from stocking the bathrooms with towels. These are for the hot tub."

They exchanged a look, and I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not draining and refilling that damned thing tomorrow!"

Trowa's eyes widened. "What are you implying, Yuy?"

"You figure it out," I growled warningly.

Quatre looked puzzled, and I realized he probably never knew they'd been caught on surveillance at the lake house. I wished I still had the footage—it would have made great blackmail material.

"Just behave yourselves," I cautioned. "Chang and Catherine might want some time in the tub, so you'll have to share."

"We'll play nice," Trowa promised, sounding just like Duo at his cheekiest.

Speaking of "playing nice," I decided to head downstairs and convince Duo it was time for bed.

Not necessarily sleep...but definitely bed.

"—second door on the right," Duo was saying to Wufei and Catherine as I trotted down the stairs. "Make yourselves comfortable, and tomorrow I'll whip you up the best breakfast you ever had."

"That sounds wonderful," Catherine cooed happily. "This is just a lovely home, Duo. And you—you've come so far. I'm proud of you."

"Be proud of Heero; he's the one who put all the effort into getting me on the straight and narrow, so to speak."

"But you did the work," Wufei reminded him. "He may be your reason for it, but you are the one who made something of yourself. You two built this life together. And I'm glad Yuy has a partner I consider worthy of him."

"Aw, Wuffers—," Duo teased. Then his voice turned serious. "I don't think I ever got the chance to thank you for being there for him when I wasn't. But he told me how you guys looked after him—made him eat—made him keep living. And—just, _thanks_. A lot."

"You're very welcome."

I didn't try to hide my presence as I reached the last step and turned the corner. "Jeeze, Duo—you are just a sentimental sap today, aren't you?"

He blushed and turned from our guests, shrugging self-consciously. "Just have a lotta catching up to do. When you spend a couple of months 'dead,' you rack up a lot of debt."

I shuddered at the memory of him being "dead," and then forced a smile. "I'm going to lock up now. Why don't you show Wufei and Catherine where they'll be staying?"

"Sure." He smiled slyly. "An' then I'll go turn down the covers for us, so hurry back."

"I'll be right _up_."

Yeah, let the innuendoes fly.

I took my time, locking the front and back doors, and checking the windows. While I didn't expect any trouble, I refused to be careless. Our life there was too precious—and too new to take for granted. Duo was too important to ever take for granted.

When everything was secure, I turned out the last of the downstairs lights, and headed upstairs.

* * *

Duo was folding up the fringed shirt when I padded into the bedroom, and he looked over his shoulder with a smile. "Hey, lover."

"Hey." I walked over and slipped my arms around him from behind, pulling him back against me. "Putting away the past?" I asked, noticing he'd dropped the outfit back into the box and set the lid on it.

"Yeah. I'm kinda busy living in the moment, y'know?"

He leaned his head back onto my shoulder, looking up at me with a smirk as I nuzzled his hair with my face. God, I loved that hair!

"Do you miss it?" I couldn't help asking.

"Miss—what?"

"Dancing? The applause and appreciation? Being the center of attention and knowing you're the sexiest man alive?"

He chuckled warmly. "First off, as heady a feeling as it was, having all those guys lusting after me—that's all it was—lust. And I might've enjoyed the flattery and the popularity, but I also knew the applause of a bunch of half-drunk guys was just hollow praise. What I've got here, with you? _That's _real. That makes me feel like the sexiest man alive. _You _make me feel that way."

I smiled into his hair, and he turned around in my arms to face me. So I brushed my fingers through the wisps framing his cheeks, and kissed him gently. "You know—if you ever wanted to perform again—if you _did _miss it—I'd let you."

"You'd let me parade around naked in front of a roomful of drunk guys?" he asked with a disbelieving smile.

"I would. I trust you," I assured him. "And I'd do anything to make you happy."

He shook his head, giving a wry snort. "I don't deserve you, 'Ro." Those brilliant indigo eyes dropped to half-lidded pools of lust, and the faintest hint of a smirk touched the full, perfect lips. "I never want to go back to the stage, love. I'm retired now. I only do private performances—for an audience of one."

And damn—was I glad I was the one—as he pressed his mouth to mine, coaxing it open and then kissing me so deeply I could feel it to the tips of my toes.

He was my personal Jesus, my Angel, and my Shinigami—everything I could ever want all rolled into one teasing, sensuous, gorgeous braided beauty.

"Take me to bed, 'Ro," he whispered, low and husky.

And I never _could_ say "no" to him...


End file.
